


Wayward Hearts

by Antecanis



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Smut, Father/Son Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28288782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antecanis/pseuds/Antecanis
Summary: Assassin mentor Connor Kenway finds himself amidst chaos on Christmas Eve. Not only is a snowstorm threatening to inundate New York City, but after their truce broke only two months ago, it seems like his father, CEO of Abstergo Industries and Templar Grand Master Haytham Kenway, is up to no good as he is caught trying to break into an Assassin Bureau... Can Connor find out what's going on before the storm hits, and will he be able to rebuild the trust that has been shattered between them?
Relationships: Haytham Kenway/Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor
Comments: 21
Kudos: 44





	1. Connor ∞ Haytham

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays to you all, if you're celebrating! Hope you're catching a break either way, and can find some energy for the next few months... I wanted to write this as a sort of "tradition" from last year, where I published 'Treacherous Hearts' featuring two Connors! You may be able to figure out what's happening this year then!? (You don't have to have read TH, it's not a connected story content-wise!)

The snowstorm was expected to hit Manhattan in the late afternoon, so Connor hadn’t been keen on leaving his apartment as the first flakes started tumbling down the grey skies. But with Achilles not in town, he was the highest in command, and his men had sounded genuinely freaked out – refusing to tell him what all of this was about over the phone. Feeling both irritated and concerned, Connor had taken the metro uptown to the safehouse in Washington Heights where his men had told him to meet. For some reason or another, he didn’t have a good feeling about all of this.

It was Christmas Eve, but he was buried in work; especially taking over Achilles’ responsibilities had been a challenge. He had looked forward to a quiet day to himself; sheltering from the storm and trying to finish work so he could day Christmas Day off. There was no family he could celebrate with anyways – his mother had passed away a decade ago, and his father… well, it was complicated. 

He hadn’t known about his father’s identity until after his mother’s death, and only when he had already been a junior mentor within the Creed, he had learned about his father, Haytham Kenway, being a high-ranking Templar. His superior, senior mentor Achilles Davenport, had warned him that his father was a ruthless enemy, and that one day, Connor would have to face and kill him. For years, that had been drilled into him, and when he had met his father for the first time, things had been unsurprisingly tense. He wasn’t sure when or how Haytham had learned about his existence, and they had never spoken about it.

Despite the knowledge that he was meant to kill his father, Connor had temporary allied himself with the older man; and in a way, it had been a relief to postpone the ultimate demise that seemed to loom over them. He had worked alongside Haytham on a few selected missions where their interests had aligned and Connor hadn’t… _disliked_ those missions. It was true that Haytham was ruthless; he was also bull-headed, impatient, and never short of a cutting remark. At the same time, Connor had come to… _respect_ the other’s strength, wit and strategic mind. For a while, the young Assassin had wondered if there was another way for them – if there was a possibility of reconciliation; a permanent truce, perhaps. With Haytham leading the Templars, and him leading the Assassins (if or when he would take over from Achilles, who was rather opposed to the thought), maybe they could join forces… or so Connor had naively thought.

But then, two months ago, the young man had found out that Haytham had kept some information about Connor’s mother’s death from him. Apparently a politician Connor had occasionally worked with, George Washington, had had a hand in the fire that had claimed Ziio’s life. Washington had declared that no one had been supposed to be in the building, and that it had been a last straw to raise awareness for the situation in that neighbourhood in the Bronx, where Connor and his mother had lived at the time. The whole situation had undermined Connor’s trust in both Washington and his father – cutting ties with both of them for the time being while he tried to figure out what to do – and feel – about the situation.

And now – with whatever incident had prompted his men’s plea for him to rush over to the safehouse on Christmas Eve – Connor was concerned that it had to do with either his father or George Washington. He tried to keep a level head as he stood in the train; clinging to the railing with his knuckles white in tension. Had Haytham started a war, or had things gone awry, now that they weren’t working together anymore? Was Achilles right, and Haytham would simply use whatever intel he had gained during their truce to hurt Connor now? The responsibility of the Brotherhood here in New York rested on Connor’s shoulders, and he was acutely aware of that as he left the train and tried his best not to dash towards their safehouse.

The wind had picked up, and the snow that was thrown into his heated face felt like hail; sharp little flakes melting on his reddened cheeks. His motions were clumsy when he fumbled with the lock of the door leading to the backyard where the entrance to their safehouse was located. Everything felt like it took forever, and finally, Connor gave in to the urge to sprint up the stairs and bang open the door of the old warehouse where his crew was waiting for him.

The room was dimly lit, and the sound of the wind howling outside echoed in the vast, empty hall. Connor’s heart was beating heavily as his gaze locked upon three of his men guarding what immediately appeared to be a prisoner. None other than Haytham Kenway sat on the only chair in the room; hunched over and hair hiding his face. He was visibly tied to the chair, and as Connor slowly approached, he could see blood stains on the other’s clothing. Haytham was wearing things Connor had never seen him in before - jeans and a beige hoodie. Had the other been undercover?

Clearing his throat, the young man tried to sound composed as he asked, “What’s going on? What the hell happened?”

One of his recruits stepped forwards; visibly nervous. He glanced at the other two and then replied, “He tried to enter our location on 175th. Not even… _subtly._ Our guys there said he seemed, uh, confused.”

Connor glanced at his father; unsure if the other was conscious or not. “What did he want? Did he try to hurt anyone? Steal anything?”

“Uh, no.” The younger recruit squirmed. “He… well, _I_ wasn’t there, so…”

“What?” Connor was confused and irritated at the situation - this didn’t seem like his father, the powerful Templar - trying to break into one of their bureaus in broad daylight all by himself.

“I only know what the guys there told me.”, the recruit muttered in a defensive tone. “It doesn’t make sense but it’s all I know. The Templar was saying that he’s, uh, stationed at the location and that he was supposed to be meeting you and some other things that didn’t make sense.”

Connor stared at the recruit and then allowed his gaze to travel back to his father’s huddled figure. “And then?”, he asked gravely. He hadn’t been scheduled to be meeting his father, and it seemed too obvious of a lie for Haytham to claim such things. Had he planned to be captured?

The recruit swallowed; fidgeting with his hands as he fell back a little as if to seek shelter among his comrades. “Well, I guess the guys there were, uh, a bit overwhelmed by his appearance and took him down. He… he didn’t even… They said he seemed just surprised. Didn’t fight them.”

 _“Didn’t fight them?”,_ Connor repeated, incredulous. None of this made sense unless his father had wanted them to capture him. But why would he want that? And why today - with that snowstorm about to hit?

“There is… there is another thing.”, one of the other recruits said; stepping forwards and holding out a phone to Connor. The young mentor took it and stared at the screen. It was a livestream of a press conference concerning potential outages during the snowstorm - given by none other than… CEO of Abstergo Industries, Haytham Kenway.

For a moment, Connor just stared at the screen. That was his father, doubtlessly. Impeccable suit, icy expression, cutting words. But who was this, then? He glanced at the man tied to the chair in front of him.

“Are you sure this is live?”, he asked as he handed back the phone and approached the prisoner. The recruit nodded slowly. “Yes, mentor, we have one of our own there as a reporter. They’ve confirmed it’s happening right now.”

With hesitation, Connor reached out. For a moment, his hand hovered in the air between him and the person he had thought was his father. For some reason or another, he felt dizzy - there was probably a simple explanation for this. Haytham had sent an impostor; someone to try and -

Connor’s fingers lifted the other’s chin up so he could see his face better.

The world was spinning around Connor as he laid eyes upon his father’s familiar features. He was gagged, but there was no doubt that this was Haytham. And as Connor stared at him, trying to find his composure, the older man’s eyes fluttered open.

As Haytham recognized him, his expression changed, and he seemed to relax; warmth and relief being visible in his bright eyes. Connor took a step backwards; almost as if he had been slapped. His father would never look at him like this; Haytham’s eyes had never been this expressive. Or were they?

Connor’s fingers had left the other’s chin, but now that Haytham was conscious, he stared at his son; squirming a little against his restraints as if he expected Connor to free him of them. 

“Did he… did he have anything on him?”, Connor asked; still reeling from the way his father had reacted to seeing him. They weren’t on good terms; hadn’t seen each other since Connor had told him to go fuck himself. So why would Haytham be… _glad_ to see him? But, more importantly, how could he be in two places at the same time? Connor liked none of the theories that immediately bubbled up inside of his mind; all spoke of Haytham planning something big. And the fact that this… _lookalike_ hadn’t fought his capture did not bide well. Connor needed to figure this out - quickly, before his father could launch whatever he was planning. It already felt like he was a step behind - with this lookalike being dropped on his doorstep, or so it seemed like. Of course, Connor thought, it couldn’t be an actual clone, could it? An android, perhaps? But - it all seemed so incredibly unlikely, with this person so absolutely real and emotive in front of him; this couldn’t be a prototype or first generation tech. No, this was something else, and if it was connected to a Piece of Eden… then he needed to stop his father’s scheming as soon as possible.

“Here.”, one of the recruits said, and Connor was snapped from his racing considerations. He was handed a plastic bag with the things they had taken from this version of his father. Connor rifled through them, trying to find a single clue as to what the hell was going on.

“Why don’t we just… ask him, now that he’s awake?”, one of his men asked ever so quietly.

Connor just shook his head. His father was a good liar and if this was planned, he would only use his silver tongue to deceive them further. He had no time or energy for Haytham’s endless, manipulative bullshit.

There was generally nothing remarkable amongst his father’s things, but at the same time… It didn’t seem _quite_ right. His wallet was a shabby-looking leather wallet with an engraving that Connor didn’t recognize. He was rather sure that he had seen his father’s wallet before - something expensive, bland and dark, not this… keepsake sort of thing. Other than that, there was a phone - turned off -, a ring and a pocket knife of the swiss army type but with what looked like an Assassin symbol decorating it. Haytham had to have stolen it from someone. “Did you check the phone?”, Connor asked.

One of the recruits nodded. “Yes, but it's definitely dead. Wouldn't charge and the SD card is unreadable.”

Connor gave a displeased grunt and put away the phone. Next, he grabbed the ring and stared at it. It looked like a wedding band.

“Oh, uh, he was wearing that, actually. We took it off because we thought it might be, uh, wired or somethin’.”, one of the recruit explained before Connor had even asked about it.

As far as he knew, Haytham had never been married - him and Ziio hadn’t been - and he shared his recruits’ suspicion about it. Glancing at them expectantly, the other hastened to add, “Oh, yeah, no, it’s just a ring. We ran it through security and everythin’. It, eh… It has an engraving, though.”

Connor turned towards the flickering, dim neon light to inspect the ring better. The recruit was right, there was a small band of text inside of the ring.

_Connor ∞ Haytham_

The ring almost slipped from his grip when he saw his own name engraved on the inside. But no - this - this… He shook his head slightly. Different Connor, clearly, because why would his father have this engraved? Or was it some sort of message? Did this concern the truce, or was it a warning not to cross him? Connor slowly put the ring back into the bag; taking out the wallet next. He held it up; looking at the recruits expectantly again.

“Went through security just fine.”, the recruit mumbled; shrugging.

Connor flipped it open and nearly dropped it. A picture of himself and Haytham greeted him - or… a photoshopped version, perhaps, because not only had he never seen this picture before, but he knew for sure that it was fake. This had never been taken.

It showed himself and his father; taken at a photo box of some sort, and thus being one picture of a string. Haytham was pressing a kiss to his temple, and Connor was laughing; his hand resting on Haytham’s cheek with a ring glistening on his finger. It was the same simple band he had just retrieved from the bag of belongings.

He bit his tongue. What the fuck? What mind games were these? With irritation and anger, he glanced up; finding his father’s almost confused looking gaze resting on him.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re up to, but this isn’t gonna work.”, Connor snapped; throwing the wallet to their prisoner’s feet. “You’re trying to fuck with my head, yeah? I’m not impressed. You still think you can manipulate me any way you please; you still think I’m gonna… fall for whatever _bullshit_ this is? Some photoshopped picture isn’t going to make me reconsider, if that’s what you think. You were insufferable, the whole time, so what? You trying to make me think we had a great time working together? We didn’t. And I know you’re up to something, and I’m going to find out what it is. This diversion is laughable! I’m not falling for your bullshit again.”

He had to stop himself from saying more; realizing how angry and hurt he still felt over his father’s betrayal. What had hurt most was that he had fallen for it - he had really believed that Haytham… _cared_ for him when all he had done was manipulate him. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

The other’s expression seemed hurt, but there was also a sort of understanding visible in his bright eyes; a resignation and defeatedness. Once more, it was strikingly different from Haytham's usual demeanour, and Connor realized that, of course, this wasn't actually Haytham. The real Haytham had to be the one he had just seen at the press conference.

Connor scoffed. “You’re not really him, aren’t you? You’re just his pawn.” The young mentor shook his head. Of course his father wouldn’t risk his own neck. Connor still wasn’t sure how in the hell Haytham had pulled this off - sending someone who looked exactly like him. But Connor would find out - and make sure Haytham wouldn’t use that technology against him any further.

“Keep him guarded. I’ll find out what the hell is going on.” With that, Connor picked up the wallet and turned around to make his way back downtown; watching as the snow fell heavier, and the skyscrapers disappeared in soft clouds of white and grey.


	2. Keepsake

The trains downtown were still going despite the first flurry of snow, but some delays occurred, and Connor knew that sooner or later, the public transportation would shut down - at least for a few hours, or the rest of the day. He sat in the train and stared at the ring he had taken with him.

_Connor ∞ Haytham_

Was it some sort of attempt to have him reconsider his stance regarding their truce? Was this Haytham’s attempt to facilitate a second attempt of working together? If so, then it was poorly executed and had appeared as a threat rather than anything else. Connor sighed. The ring looked well-worn; a bit polished, and a few subtle scratches here and there, as if it had been with its wearer for some time. Unable to resist the temptation, he slowly slid it on his own finger. It fit well, though it was clear that it wasn’t made for him. Sighing to himself once more, he put up the hood on his sweater and closed his eyes; listening to the rumbling of the train and the noises of people coming and going. It was full as New Yorkers tried to get to wherever they wanted and needed to get to before the storm hit in its full force. The weather forecast had warned that it might bring a historic amount of snow, and Connor wondered if his father’s plan somehow involved this storm and the outages it might cause. Yes, that had to be it - with the other having been on that press conference addressing the outages… But what did Haytham want to distract from? An attack? A heist?

Contacting his bureau while he was on his way downtown, Connor managed to confirm Haytham’s location. While the conference had ended twenty minutes ago, his men had managed to keep an eye on the Grand Master, who had hurried home after the conference had taken place at the Abstergo Tower. He was probably in a hurry to grab whatever he needed for his plan, Connor guessed.

Connor got off the metro at Columbus Circle, which was just at the Southwest corner of Central Park. Haytham’s apartment was located in one of the buildings lining West Central Park, and Connor had been there occasionally during their truce. It was usually a marvelous sight over the Park, but the storm was limiting visibility so much already that the young man had no doubt that sooner rather than later, it would be a proper whiteout from Haytham’s window. Which posed one important problem for Connor - usually he could keep tabs on Haytham from a rooftop nearby which allowed a decent angle to at least oversee whether or not Haytham was home. But in the current conditions, Connor needed to stay close; close enough to follow his father the second he left his apartment. 

He wasn’t here to talk to his father; no, as he had reasoned before - Haytham would be full of shit as always. Instead, Connor was intent on following him - whatever he was up to; Connor had to find out while the decoy Haytham was securely kept at the safehouse in Washington Heights.

At least the CEO wouldn’t be able to slip away on his motorcycle - as had happened in the past - because traffic and the snowy conditions would make this impossible.

Since Connor couldn’t just hang around the park, waiting for Haytham to emerge again, he had advised his men to ready a car to be parked along the street. It was freezing cold already, and the brisk wind was cutting; the snow flakes sharp and painful in one’s face. He needed to wait somewhere sheltered, and in case his father took off in a car, he needed a way to pursue him. He almost suspected Haytham to travel on foot - the traffic would be slow and tedious, and walking through the Park would be quicker; at least if one possessed the right equipment. Last winter, Connor had seen people ski through Central Park - not a bad idea with the current snow fall. The young man slowly walked along the Park; finding the car after a brief moment.

One of his men was waiting in it, and Connor knocked on the window.

“I’ll take over now. Have someone stationed at the backdoor and inside, if possible.”

He couldn’t be inside himself - Haytham or his security team would recognize him. But in this weather, it wasn’t too unrealistic for someone to seek shelter in the lobby - someone who would tell him if Haytham left the building.

Twenty minutes later, Connor had three other men stationed around Haytham’s apartment building. There was light in the CEO’s rooms, but Connor couldn’t see anything else. If Haytham didn’t emerge in half an hour, he would go in and try to get his father to talk - but that was Plan B because the young mentor had not much hope that their talk would go well. And maybe… just perhaps, he wasn’t ready to face his father again after their falling out and was particularly hesitant to actually approach the other.

The storm had picked up, and a good bit of snow was already accumulating in every corner and some wind sheltered bits of the street. It wasn’t too cold in the car yet, even though Connor hadn’t bothered to turn on the heating - wanting to preserve battery, just in case.

As he sat and waited, Connor gave in to the urge to pull out decoy Haytham’s wallet. What was all this about? Holding up the fake photograph so he could see it better in the dim light from the streetlights, Connor stared at it. It was great work, it looked very real. If only he had ever been this happy… Laughing, free of care, enjoying his father’s affection; trusting and safe. Clenching his jaw, he wished he wouldn’t feel upset about it. But he wouldn’t let it show - whatever Haytham wanted with sending him this, it was to get under his skin, and he couldn’t let that happen.

Connor startled when all of a sudden, the passenger seat’s door was opened, and someone entered the car. Before Connor realized who it was, he had already glimpsed the gun and froze. Slowly, his gaze wandered upwards, but he already knew who had sat down next to him: It was Haytham. The very one he had left behind at the safehouse; still wearing his slightly bloody beige sweater and the dark jeans. 

“How did you find me?”, Connor asked; recognizing the gun as probably one from the men he had left guarding the decoy. “Did you hurt my men?”

The other shook his head. “Your men are fine. I simply assured that they would not contact you before I located you. Despite these many changes, the Assassin communications are surprisingly similar to what I am used to.”

“The… _what?”_ The communications were secured heavily - only mentors had access. And with Achilles out of the country… Had Haytham somehow gotten the information from Connor during their truce? Of course… he had somehow spied these information, Connor thought to himself, unable to keep himself from making a face. Had his father used him from the second they had agreed on working together?

The Haytham lookalike sighed as he seemed to recognize Connor's train of thought. “Whatever you’re assuming right now - you’re probably wrong. Look, Connor - I’m not here to hurt you…”

With a growl, Connor moved. “Good!”, he scowled; lunging forwards as best as he could, trying to wrestle the gun from the other’s hand. But their scuffle was over soon, and Haytham’s elbow was pressed against his throat tightly; locking him back into his seat and his grip still firmly on the gun’s handle.

“Connor, please.”, the older man muttered with exasperation. “I’m not here to hurt you - but I will not make the same mistake again and be captured by you or your men.”

Squinting at the other, Connor backed off. “What do you want?”, he brought out hoarsely.

Slowly, Haytham released him again. “I need information -”, the Haytham lookalike started, but Connor interrupted him.

“Who the fuck are you even? You’re not my father, I can tell as much. Why do you look exactly like him?” _Sound exactly like him. Smell exactly like him…_ Connor shook himself mentally.

The older man sighed; clearly weighing his options of a reply. “Can I have my ring back?”, he asked eventually. Slowly, Connor reached into his pocket and produced the small band; handing it to the other who put it back on his ring finger - all the while still pointing the gun at Connor subtly.

“Want the wallet and the fake picture, too?”, Connor growled with sarcasm.

“Actually, yes.”

Suddenly realizing that he probably should have inspected the wallet more closely, Connor regretted his teasing - he might be giving away valuable clues. Sighing, he complied; guessing he should be able to signal his men somehow that he needed help, and sooner or later, he would get the wallet back.

“Who are you? Why did my father send you?”, Connor repeated; eyeing the other. He truly looked like his father, even though… the longer the young man stared at him, the more he felt like there were things off. But the lighting was dim and he could simply be mistaken. The picture as a whole was utterly convincing, though - the tone of the other’s voice… The way he spoke… Though, perhaps, his voice wasn’t as cutting and sharp. But it was still Haytham’s voice.

After a moment of consideration, the Haytham lookalike responded quietly, “Your father did not send me. I would reckon he does not know I am here, and I am starting to think he might not be thrilled to meet me, in all actuality.”

His bright eyes were resting on Connor, but instead of hostility, suspicion or caution, Connor believed to see melancholy and gentleness in the other’s gaze. It truly threw him off - that gaze made him squirm more than his father’s usual demeanour. Perhaps Haytham was trying to grasp the younger man’s response to his carefully chosen words, and as Connor didn’t say anything in return, the Haytham lookalike asked, “You’re not… on good terms with your father, are you?”

Grimacing, Connor shook his head. Was this for real? 

The other sighed. “I see. I gathered as much by your reaction back in…” He didn’t finish the sentence; falling silent for a moment, with the howling of the wind outside being the only sound echoing within the small space of the car. Snow was slowly accumulating around them, and Connor reckoned they would be snowed in if they didn’t leave soon. It wasn’t terribly cold yet, but in a few hours that would be different.

“If he didn’t send you - why do you look like him?”, Connor asked as the other remained silent.

The Haytham lookalike snorted, and it was such a genuinely amused sound that Connor was once more struck by this not being his father - he couldn’t really recall an occasion where Haytham had been so… _genuine._ So relaxed around him - despite the gun between them, Connor started to believe the other’s words about not wanting to hurt him.

“How much do you know about Apples of Eden?”

 _Oh, fuck._ So this was related to an artefact. How the hell had Haytham gotten his hands on one without the Assassins’ knowledge? In just two months? And how did he have one of his… _artefact clones_ running around on his own; not knowing about him?

Haytham apparently read his reaction and shook his head. “Again, I have the distinct feeling you are drawing the wrong conclusions. I am not here because of your father’s actions - at least not as far as I know. I am not his… double. I am my own man - I have my own… _life_ to return to.”

With confusion, Connor opened his mouth to ask a question, but too late he realized he didn’t even know where to start asking. “How?”, he eventually managed out.

Taking a deep breath, the Haytham lookalike glanced out of the front window. For a brief moment, Connor had the impulse to use the other’s inattention and overpower him - but he was genuinely curious about what this guy had to tell him. He wasn’t sure if he actually believed any of it - but that was perhaps something to figure out once the other had tried to explain more.

“I _am_ Haytham Kenway, and I know who you are. You’re Connor, my… my son. In my own… life, I am an Assassin; we both are. But I am not an Assassin here, am I?”

Slowly, Connor shook his head.

“Figured.”, the other muttered, turning again to watch Connor’s reaction to his words. “I was on a last mission before Christmas Day - scouting a shipment of antiquities that we had heard about, down by the docks. I… I don’t remember what exactly happened, but I must’ve… touched something. Well, a Piece of Eden, I suspect in retrospect. I woke up here - in a park in Washington Heights, I mean. I thought I had somehow… gotten a brain injury of some sorts; not remembering travelling back uptown. I tried finding you - going to our Bureau, but your men took me out.”

Connor stared at him. Could this be true? It would… explain _some_ things. Or, this could be the decoy story that was meant to keep him busy and distracted from his father’s actual plan. But his men were watching the entrance, so at least Haytham hadn’t left yet.

“What’s with the…”, Connor started; trying to decide whether he wanted to ask about the ring of the photograph first. “The ring?”

“Oh.” Haytham seemed to hesitate. “Well, it’s a… a memory, you know? You would have night terrors as a child, after your mother’s death, and I would promise you I’d always be there to protect you. That’s why I gave the ring to you when you went off to college - if you ever got those night terrors again, you’d have a memory of not being alone.”

“Then why are you wearing it?” Connor almost added that it didn't really fit all that well, but that would have meant that he admitted to trying it on.

Haytham let out a shaky breath of amusement. “I’m just… holding onto it. A keepsake. You’re too cool to wear it now.”

“But I’m wearing it in this picture you have of me in your wallet. Is that real? Was that really taken; that photo?”

A small smile found its way onto Haytham’s lips, and Connor stared at him. Haytham looked… just the _mention_ of this photograph - it brought a smile to his lips. For some reason or another, that knocked the air from Connor’s lungs - did this… _version_ of his father care so much about him? 

“Yes.”, Haytham replied eventually. “It’s real. It was taken… not too long ago. You were humouring me, as you often do, by wearing it.”

Connor nodded slowly; unsure what to believe. But there was a strange sort of kindness to his father’s - no, not his father… _this_ Haytham’s… demeanour. There was a warmth to his gaze; affection to his smile. It was all entirely too confusing.

“We… we get along, right? You and me?” Connor's voice was quiet, and he was trying to sound casual or… uninterested, but he knew all too well that he wasn't fooling anyone; least of all his father.

“Yes, certainly..”, Haytham responded, the smile still lingering on his lips. “You’ve been with me for almost two decades now, and we’re running the Brotherhood together after my father resigned.”

“Your… your father? Edward?”, Connor asked with disbelief.

Apparently taken aback by Connor’s incredulous reaction, Haytham asked, “Why is that so… surprising to you? Is he not an Assassin in this… world?”

“I, uh… Yeah, no, he was...”, Connor stuttered; actually realizing that there was a lot he didn’t know. “Edward is, uh, he’s dead. I’ve never met him, he… he died when you were young, I think. I don’t know much about it, but you went into the Order, or maybe you’ve been in it before his death, I don’t really… know.”

There was a moment of pause, and Connor found the other’s gaze transfixed on him. “Do you… do you have any more pictures?”, he asked with a stutter. “To - to confirm what you’ve told me.”, he hastened to add. It wasn’t like he wanted to… to see that story; that narrative the other had spun. It sounded… _nice._ Which was precisely why Connor couldn’t allow himself to believe any of it for one second.

“Not many. My phone stopped working - I… I think it got fried during whatever journey that brought me here.” Haytham started to open the wallet, but it was awkward with the gun still in his hand. He glanced up at Connor. “I’ll put away the gun. I trust you won’t attack me again, yes? I’m not here to… to scheme against you as you seem to think. I’m not working with your father, I’m just trying to figure out how to get back to my own life. I trust you understand that better now.”

With that, he put the gun away and opened his wallet. There was a compartment Connor hadn’t noticed before, and Haytham pulled out a few more pictures. They had a different format than the photo box segment Haytham kept in the front pocket of the wallet; rather, they looked like instant camera pictures in a smaller version. Quickly rifling through them, he handed Connor three more; two, he tucked back into the wallet before Connor could get a glimpse of them.

Connor told himself that he was just curious how far this whole game and scheme went - how many pictures had they created to underscore this story? But a part of him wanted to believe the other. There was something about this lookalike that made Connor wish he could. Perhaps it was the idea that somehow, under some other circumstances, Haytham could have cared for him.

The first of the three pictures showed himself - sitting on a log in a forest; wearing hiking gear and a dog chewing on a stick at his feet. Connor stared at the picture. “You took this picture?”, he asked; struck.

“Oh, yes.”, the other replied in a warm voice. “You got this instant camera a while back, and we’ve started to take in on our - on… on our trips. This was taken during a hike upstate, last year. You were showing me around. In my world, this is a place where you would go with -”

“Go with my Mom, yeah.”, Connor interrupted him; his heart beating up in his throat. He clutched the photograph; trying to come up with an explanation as to how Haytham could have known. He hadn’t been in that spot in forever, but he remembered those rocks in the distance; the shape of the hill behind himself in the photograph. Haytham couldn’t know - not about this specific spot, where he would camp with his Mom.

“Seems like there are some things converging after all.”, Haytham remarked. “By the way. The dog - it’s yours. Do you have a dog? His name is Rufus. He bites, but you took him from the shelter anyway.” Haytham chuckled, and it was a sound that made Connor’s heart miss a beat. He couldn’t help but wonder if Haytham - his _own_ father - could chuckle like that; if he could be so genuinely delighted by a shared memory of the two of them.

“N-no, I don’t.”, Connor muttered. Maybe this strange story was true after all. He flipped to the second picture. It was the two of them together - a selfie sort of picture with little of their surroundings visible. But Connor could tell that it was taken at a Christmas market or something of the like. There were blinking, colourful lights, and both of them were wearing scarves, their cheeks reddened.

“Austria.”, Haytham explained. “Almost exactly a year ago. We would have gone back to Europe this year, but I was supposed to follow up this lead before…” He sighed and Connor glanced at him. He looked truly distraught. “I want to get back before Christmas Day. I want to get back before… I’m worried you think I - I’m not coming back.”

Connor just stared at him; trying to grapple with the ripples of the other’s story - if indeed it was true. But there was much that made sense; much that Connor had troubles explaining in any other way. And yet, it wasn’t easy, wrapping his head around a world in which Edward lived - in which they were both Assassins; working together and - getting along to the point where they went on holidays together, and where Haytham kept pictures of him in his wallet; smiling just from thinking of them; thinking of _him._ His head hurt, but even more so, his heart did.

He wanted to say something - anything; promise his help the other return, or ask more about their life; about his own life with his father by his side. He looked so happy in those pictures; so relaxed around Haytham. But before he could, a bright light illuminated the inside of the car.

Connor turned; the pictures tumbling from his grip as he recognized several men standing outside the car. They were armed Abstergo security guards; one of them pointing a flashlight inside of the car. Cursing under his breath, Connor was about to instruct this other Haytham to pretend to be the CEO and tell them to leave them alone, but before he could, an all too familiar voice sounded, “Connor, step out of the car. And don’t do anything stupid.”

Slowly turning towards the man next to him, Connor wore a grim expression. “Meet my father.”


	3. Chiaroscuro

Half an hour later, both Connor and the strange Haytham were sitting on a large couch in the real Haytham’s apartment; cuffed and in the presence of a dozen security guards as well as Connor’s father, who sat opposite them. Connor's men had been taken into custody before they had been able to warn their mentor, but they were held elsewhere. The powerful Templar was wearing the same impeccable suit he had worn during the press conference; and his icy expression was quite strikingly the same as well. The snowstorm was in full force outside now; and the usually scenic view from the CEO’s living room window was like a screen of white noise. 

“Leave us.”, the Grand Master instructed; waving for the guards to wait outside his apartment. The men complied, and the three of them were alone for the time being. Connor’s father looked stern as usual, but the young man had the distinct impression that Haytham was pissed. He could only guess what the other was thinking was going on. 

Carefully, he started, “Father, it’s not like you think -”

Haytham scoffed; glancing from Connor to the man who looked exactly like him, and back. His posture was relaxed with his legs crossed, and his jacket just a little undone, but his eyes were narrow with irritation and mistrust. “Oh, is that so? So you were not trying to infiltrate my company with this… _pathetic_ impostor? Using the snowstorm as a cover; quite free of any moral or reasonable consideration, without scruples, now that you think you can go so openly against me?”

“No, I wasn’t -”

“How did you do it? Was that why you were working with me in the first place? To create this… _clone?”_ Haytham’s voice was cutting, and Connor almost flinched. He was used to this tone, of course, but after thr soft-spoken conversation with the other Haytham in the car… it was a rough reminder of how his father _truly_ felt about him. Connor glanced over to the other Haytham, who was watching the two of them with an intent expression.

Connor wondered - if the other’s story was true - what he was thinking; witnessing the way their relationship was in this life; mistrusting and harsh. His heart ached treacherously with the knowledge that it didn’t have to be like this - or that… it could have been different. For one foolish second, he wondered if he could -

“How did father die?”, Assassin Haytham asked quietly, his gaze directed at his Templar self.

“Excuse me?” Haytham gave an offended snort and stood up; pacing along his living room and shaking his head. “This is low, even for you, Connor.”

“3rd of December, the night before my tenth birthday. Is that when it happened?”

The CEO stopped; back turned towards them and his face hidden. But Connor could see the tension in his shoulders, and it did not bide well. The young man glanced from his father to the other Haytham; wondering how to defuse the situation.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you both for your shameless ploy.”, Haytham growled, and his voice gave away that he was entirely serious.

“Connor hasn’t done anything.”, the other Haytham responded softly, and the young Assassin glanced at him with dark eyes. It was entirely surreal to have his father defend him - against… _his father._

The CEO turned around; anger visible on his pale features. “Very well.” He approached the other Haytham and they stared at each other; the CEO towering above his other self, who was cuffed and seated. With a sudden movement, the Templar grabbed his other self by the hair; yanking him upwards and pressing his hidden blade to the other’s throat. “Then I will kill you first, impostor.”

 _“No!”,_ Connor cried out; struggling to his feet. His head was filled with the images of this Haytham with himself - with a happier version of himself - and he couldn’t bear the thought of this relationship being broken. If there was the smallest chance that it was true… then he wanted to return this version of Haytham to the other Connor, who so clearly… cared for his father.

Haytham’s steely eyes slowly wandered back to Connor. Raising his eyebrows, he increased the pressure of the blade against his other self’s throat. “Oh? You care for this… _thing?_ Don’t tell me you groomed him to be your new Daddy? I wasn’t what you wanted, and so you made… _this?_ Two birds with one stone, is that it? What? Did you plan on killing and replacing me, is that it?” Haytham’s voice was dripping with vitriol, and Connor almost winced. Part of him was angry and hurt at his father’s accusation, but he knew better than to react in anger - not when… this other version of Haytham was the one in danger. Could Haytham _really_ think he had been planning on killing and replacing him with some sort of double?

“No, I… He’s - _he’s real!”,_ Connor stuttered helplessly.

“Sit. Down.”, Haytham growled, and slowly, Connor complied; staring at the Assassin version of his father, who in turn gazed up towards his other self. The CEO didn’t back off. “What was the plan, Connor? How did you make him?”, Haytham asked again, almost sounding calm - but Connor knew this tone, and knew that he was on thin ice and had to choose his words carefully.

“I did not make him, I promise.”, Connor began carefully; trying to sound reasonable rather than desperate. “I only found out about him today. He’s -” He swallowed; trying to find the right words to convey in the most concise way that he had nothing to do with a second Haytham’s appearance. “He _is_ you. From another timeline; another… _life._ He came into contact with a Piece of Eden and that’s how he’s here.”

“Ridiculous!”, Haytham snapped, but let go of his other self; retreating the hidden blade and backing away enough to stare at them both. “And you expect me to believe that? You broke our truce for a reason, Connor. How do you expect me to believe this has nothing to do with it?”

Connor could feel his Assassin father glancing at him, and he did his best not to grimace. “I… I didn’t break our truce for… for any other reason than your attempts to manipulate me. You _lied_ to me the whole time we were working together.”, he brought out eventually; trying not to sound bitter but failing.

“I never lied to you, Connor.”, his father growled with impatience. “I withheld information until I had proof. Because you would not have believed me otherwise. Isn’t that true?”

Connor remained quiet; they had had this argument before, two months ago, and it had ended with him storming off and cutting all ties with Haytham. But that wasn’t an option today; cuffed and trapped by a snowstorm as he was, so he just shook his head and fell silent.

“I thought so.”, Haytham said with dismay, as if Connor had agreed with him. _“You.”_ He tapped his double against the shoulder.

The other Haytham just raised his brows; staring up at himself and waiting for a question that seemed to linger on the Templar’s lips.

“If I am supposed to believe you are me, then what is in my safe at my Abstergo office right now?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Pah!”, Haytham glanced at Connor triumphantly, but before he could say any more, the other Haytham continued to speak.

“I wouldn’t know, because my father trained me as an Assassin and our Bureau is up in Washington Heights.”

“Don’t you dare speak of my dead father -”, Haytham started, irritation flaring up again.

“Edward is still alive -”

“How dare you!”

“- and Connor and I are continuing his legacy together.”

“Ridiculous!”

“You know that day…”, the other Haytham continued quietly, unimpressed by his Templar self’s anger. “It was by chance that I saved him. Jenny had, on a whim, asked me to play hide and seek with her. We had played earlier that day already, because she knew I loved finding the most creative hiding places. Cupboards, desks, or that loose panel in the kitchen…”

The CEO paled, and Connor stared at them with wide eyes. Whatever the other Haytham was remembering - his father remembered, too.

“At first, I considered going for the space on top of Jenny’s large wardrobe. It was difficult to get up there, and almost impossible to see from below. But for some reason, I can’t say why, I went to my father’s study instead. He was working late, and humoured me by letting me hide in that space between his desk and the drawers with files. That’s where I was when -”

“Stop.” The Templar was visibly affected by the other’s words, and Connor thought to himself that he had never seen his father wavering like that.

Haytham’s Assassin self fell quiet; intently watching his double.

The CEO took a few steps backwards; collecting himself. His gaze flickered towards Connor, and the young man wondered if the other finally believed him. “Where did you say you ran into him?”

“He tried to enter our Bureau on 175th.”, Connor said quietly. “My men took him down because they obviously thought it was you, trying to break in.”

Haytham shook his head. “I’ll check security footage from the street. This _better_ checks out.”, he warned, and then retreated to a room that Connor remembered as his study. For a moment, Connor allowed himself to find his composure again; listening to the snowstorm picking up force outside. The young mentor sighed to himself; his gaze flickering back to his Assassin father. “Did that really… happen?”, Connor asked quietly after a second of hesitation.

“The day Edward was attacked?”, Haytham asked and Connor nodded. “Yes. I suspect your father… he has a vastly different story to tell. You should ask him one day.”

Connor shrugged helplessly. “I… I doubt he’d tell me.”, he muttered darkly; shifting a little and trying to find a more comfortable way to sit with his hands still cuffed behind his back.

“What was that about a truce? Why did you break it?”

“It’s a long story.”, Connor mumbled evasively.

“Well, I’d reckon we don’t have anything else to do while your father verifies my whereabouts this afternoon. It won’t pay off to try and escape into a snowstorm - if we can make it past the guards outside.”

Reluctantly, Connor scooted closer to speak more quietly. With some reluctance, he outlined their truce, and finding out that Haytham had known more about the circumstances of Ziio’s death than he had told Connor. The young man was surprised that the other didn’t interrupt him as he spoke - didn’t accuse him of lying or painting himself in a better light than his father. All he could hear while he spoke was the howling of the wind outside, and his father’s muffled voice in his study as he spoke on the phone.

There was a moment of silence after Connor had ended, and he watched the other’s reaction with some concern.

“You don’t trust each other very much, do you?”

Making a face, Connor shook his head. “Of… Of course not.”, he said with some confusion. They were enemies, after all, and his father always had his own agenda.

“How was this when you were young? Was he not a good father to you? Is that why you became an Assassin rather than follow him into the Order?”

It took Connor a moment to realize that, of course, this Haytham wouldn’t know anything about his upbringings. Sighing, Connor shook his head once more. “I wasn’t with him as a child; didn't know of him until I was older. Achilles Davenport raised me. Trained me, too. It is him in whose footsteps I follow.”

Haytham’s expression darkened. “Achilles Davenport, you say?”

“Y-yes?”, Connor muttered; surprised that even this… version of his father seemed to have some issues with the old Assassin mentor. It was true that Achilles had a strange sort of hatred for Grand Master Kenway, but Connor had thought it was rooted in their conflict through the Creed and the Order, but even with his father being an Assassin, there seemed to be more to the story. Weren’t they working together in Haytham’s world? 

The older Assassin shook his head; clearly unwilling to elaborate. Instead, he seemed to think for a moment before his bright eyes came to lock with Connor’s. “You care for him, do you not?”

Even though they had spoken of Achilles last, Connor knew that this wasn’t about his mentor. Haytham was asking about Connor’s father, and the young Assassin shifted; wishing he could fidget with his hands but cuffed as he was, he could just shudder and allow himself to get lost in that bright, warm stare. “I… I try not to.”, Connor brought out eventually; his heart aching. Haytham had to die, one day, especially now that the truce was broken. Achilles had made that very clear, and with their personal ties so entirely shattered… Connor could not imagine a way to fix things between them. With yearning he thought of those picture his Assassin father carried with him; of that smile that had appeared as the other had thought about his own son.

Haytham held his gaze, and for one foolish moment, the young man wished he could ask for a hug. But they were both cuffed still, and Haytham would probably think he was being silly. Then again… his own son seemed oh so comfortable around him; allowing a kiss to the temple and spending time with him on holidays - soothed by his father’s presence when he had nightmares… Connor couldn’t help but think that if he could trust his father, and Haytham had given him a ring to help him feel less alone, he would have never taken it off.


	4. Crossroads

There was a moment of silence between Connor and his Assassin father. The young man held the other’s gaze; many questions on his lips but, somehow, none of them slipped from his tongue. At the same time, he felt like Haytham was pondering over something as well; over his next words, perhaps; just as if they were at a crossroads and it was up to them to decide what happened next. The storm was howling outside, and darkness was falling. It was not late, but with winter at its height, the sun set early.

Connor wasn’t sure what would happen next. He reckoned his father - his _true_ father - would be able to verify what they had told him, and then… Well, uncuff them, certainly, but what was next? They could not easily leave now that the storm had fully arrived, that much was clear. The young Assassin wondered if the two Haythams would want to speak about their different experiences, but for some reason or another, he knew that his Templar father was not… particularly keen on heart-felt conversations. Not that Connor was any better, and he knew that. Foolishly, he yearned to sit down with this Haytham someplace and learn more about the other’s life while he could. It had been so easy to talk to him; so… _relaxed._ A small part of him couldn’t help but feel jealous that in some universe, some timeline, he had gotten a life with his father by his side; trusting each other, and working together without worrying about betrayal and manipulation.

The two of them were sitting close, and as Connor shifted ever so slightly, he felt his knee against the other’s leg; for a moment instinctively wanting to back off, but then he thought to himself that it felt nice. It was a point of connection; a reminder that the other was real. Only after just a few hours, Connor’s head and heart were so jumbled up, he knew it was ridiculous. It somehow troubled things that were already simmering beneath the surface; confusing feelings Connor had done his best to push aside. And yet; those pictures the other Haytham had shown him were lurking in the back of his head, and he wondered what was on those he hadn’t seen. Maybe he would have asked Haytham about it, if his father hadn’t returned in that moment.

The CEO entered the living room and looked at the two of them; his expression stony or slightly irritated if anything. Connor stared at him; waiting for Haytham to tell them what he found.

“Once the weather allows, Abstergo security will pick you up to transfer you to our holding cells at the Tower.”, the Templar said after a moment of scrutinizing them.

“What?” Connor struggled to his feet; taking a step towards his father before he could stop himself. “You found the CCTV, right? Why don’t you believe him -”

“Oh, I _believe_ him, alright.”, Haytham growled; hands in the pockets of his too-neat-looking suit. “Sit back down, boy. How simple do you think I am, Connor?” The CEO scoffed, and his bright eyes were icy. “You met this version of me, and your first instinct was to band together as the Assassins you are, and get me out of the picture. You were lurking in front of my home, with a gun. What am I supposed to conclude you were thinking? Took you about three hours to come up with a plan to dispose of me, so it is perfectly clear that you will jump at the first chance to put a bullet in my head.”

Connor stared at him; anger and confusion bubbling up inside of him at the same time. “You’re the one who’s been treating me like I’m disposable.”, Connor snapped defensively; not even sure why the other's accusations instantaneously made him so utterly angry.

_“You’re_ the one who broke the truce! After all I did was bring you proof -”

“After you had known for _months!_ You knew who killed my mother and you said nothing!”

“Because you wouldn’t have believed me! Your _constant_ accusations -”

“And why is that! It’s because all you do is scheme and calculate and -”

“Connor.” It was the other Haytham’s soft voice interrupting their bitter back and forth, and it snapped the young Assassin out of his hurt and the defensive attack he had started to launch. He knew he was echoing things he had said two months ago already, and they were heading down the same path - only this time, without Connor having an option to just walk away. “Come, sit back down.”, the other Haytham added just as softly.

Taking a deep breath and trying to look anywhere but at his father - either of them, really - Connor complied. His heart was beating in the back of his throat and he would have probably been unable to bring out another word for a while anyways. 

“Oh, so you’re listening to _him,_ yes?”, Haytham remarked snidely; crossing his arms and watching the two of them with sharp eyes.

“I can assure you, Connor has not been conspiring against you, with or without me.”, the older Assassin said carefully; his voice smooth and strong.

“You want me to believe you sat in a car outside my home for half an hour, with a loaded gun, because it was the coziest spot in a snowstorm?” The CEO’s voice was dripping with sarcasm and anger, and Connor briefly glanced at him, just to avert his eyes again.

“No, of course not.”, the older Assassin replied quietly.

Connor wondered how his other father - Assassin Haytham - could be so patient and calm. The Templar’s tone and the way he overstepped boundaries and voiced all these sharp little accusations; it was too infuriating. The way he behaved as if he knew it all better -

“I followed him here. I had the gun on me after Connor's men had captured me - I was merely trying to avoid that particular incident repeating itself. It had nothing to do with you. You must have seen on the CCTV that he arrived before me. I tracked him down, when all he wanted to do was to find out if you had anything to do with my appearance -”

“Pah! Once more, nothing but accusations!”, the CEO spat, and Connor had to bite his tongue. Haytham had done _nothing but_ accuse him of conspiring against the Templar, after all. The young mentor glanced at the older Assassin and was once more struck by how easily he could read the other Haytham - because he could have sworn that Haytham was thinking the exact same thing and bit his tongue not to say it out loud.

“It was a reasonable concern, don’t you think? After you had not spoken in two months, and left things rather unresolved -”

“Don’t pretend you know _anything_ about what happened between us!”, Haytham interrupted him once more.

“I may not know much, but I know you, and I know Connor.” The other Haytham had at least the same quick wit as the Templar, Connor thought to himself. Thinking quick on his feet, and speaking without hesitation or doubt; having quite the silver tongue, when he needed to.

“You think you know everything!”, Haytham growled, and Connor wondered why he was so irritated by his other self’s words; why he seemed to be in such an irksome mood over this whole affair. While he reckoned it wasn’t easy to face a different version of oneself - couldn’t Haytham see the benefit in it? Connor, at least, truly wanted to hear more; know more and make the most of the time they had together; not arguing, cuffed and trapped like this.

“I do not. But I have my own son by my side, and I can tell that -”

“Oh, spare me the litany! You have your own Connor - yes, and since you could _groom_ him into your perfect little Assassin, I’m sure you don’t have to worry about his _constant_ alienation. You think you are better than me, because you followed in Edward’s footsteps, is that it? You rescued him by _chance,_ not skill! It was luck, nothing else, just like your peachy relationship to Connor was luck! You think you can come here and tell me what to do?” Once more, the CEO’s voice had dipped into a low, sharp snarl - a dangerous tone; speaking of anger, as Connor very well knew. His father had a temper, and he knew he had inherited it from Haytham, because sometimes he felt like that, too; like a cornered animal, hissing and growling and biting at anyone who came too close. Only this time, he wasn’t the one getting into the fight with Haytham, and it was entirely too surreal to watch Haytham fight _himself._

“Look, I can tell you are worried and hurt -”, the other Haytham started calmly, but he did not get to finish the sentence.

_“Worried and hurt?”_ The Grand Master scoffed. “What am I? Four years old?”

“Well, you certainly act like it.”

Connor turned to look at his Assassin father; a gasp of both surprise and laughter escaping him. Had Haytham _really_ just -? But before Connor had truly processed the remark and its impact on his father, a movement caught his attention, and he turned back just in time to see his father lunge forwards; his hidden blade drawn as he threw himself forward in an impulse of rage.

While Connor’s reaction was delayed by his surprise at the sudden escalation of the argument, his Assassin father seemed to have been prepared for his Templar self’s hostility. His response was immediate and purposeful, ducking aside while stretching out his leg to cause the CEO to stumble into the sofa they had been sitting on; the hidden blade digging into the soft cushions.

The young Assassin had jumped to his feet; frantically straining against the cuffs but it was of no use; they were Abstergo tech and did not budge, despite Connor’s raw strength. The metal dug into his wrists as he tried to break free; with a sudden clarity realizing that he wanted neither of them hurt.

With a hiss, the Templar swiveled around, but his Assassin self had stood up from the sofa; facing the Grand Master in an alert but confident stance. Adrenaline was rushing through Connor, even though he wasn't in the middle of the fight itself. And yet, his mind was racing to find a way to stop this. Just like Connor, the older Assassin still had his hands cuffed behind his back, and the younger man was concerned about him being at a disadvantage. “Father, please -”, he began in hopes to appeal to the other’s reason, but Haytham was clearly not listening as he dashed forward again.

The other Haytham moved aside in the last moment, and before the CEO could follow up, Connor stumbled between them. The Templar stopped; the hidden blade still glistening along his wrist, and his bright eyes still clouded with anger and a sort of desperate rage that Connor had rarely seen and did not understand.

“Just stop! What is wrong with you?”, Connor burst out; his heart aching.

“Get out of my way.”, Haytham growled lowly. “If you don’t, I’ll have to assume you are on _his_ side.”

Connor tried to keep a determined expression, even though his head was swimming. “We’re all on the same side right now. Why would you -?”

“So you’ve chosen him over me. I am not surprised.”, Haytham interrupted him. Before Connor could open his mouth to earnestly protest that this wasn’t a choice between the two of them, but a choice to stop the nonsensical fight, Haytham grabbed him and shoved him backwards against the older Assassin. With his hands cuffed behind his back, Connor lost his balance and crashed against the older man behind him. To his surprise, strong hands halted his fall, and as he glanced around he caught the other Haytham’s glance. “You did good.”, the older Assassin muttered quietly before he slipped away. Connor wasn’t sure how the other had escaped his cuffs, but perhaps Connor had given him enough time to do so with his intervention.

The Templar, however, instead of attacking them, had headed for a nearby drawer. He was apparently set on retrieving something - nothing good, that much was clear to Connor, who once more struggled against his restraints in a faint hope to break them open just like his Assassin father had apparently managed to. But they didn’t give in.

With his hands free now, the older Assassin dashed for the CEO; clearly understanding that it would be best not to have the other retrieve whatever he was looking for. The Templar turned around just as his Assassin self approached and Connor saw metal glistening in his hand; unable to tell what it was before the two men clashed. The Grand Master was clearly taken by surprise that his other self wasn’t cuffed anymore, and a struggle ensued with both of them trying to get a hold on the weapon the Templar was holding.

Connor stumbled closer; unsure if he would be of any help as he couldn’t get in between them, and trying to tackle his Templar father would just result in the three of them being knocked over and the weapon potentially hurting one of them. “Stop! Please -”, Connor pleaded once more; desperate to stop the fight before either of the others got hurt. He still didn’t understand why his own father was so utterly unreasonable and hostile; while Haytham could be irritable or irate at times, Connor couldn’t recall any incident where he had started such a serious fight for barely any reason. Couldn’t he see that they were all after the same thing here, and there was no need to pick sides or -

The two older men struggled for control; locked into a close, raw test of strength, and Connor’s mind raced to come up with a plan to stop the escalation. But before either side could decide the course of action, a soft bang echoed through the living room, and Connor felt a blow to his chest.

_“Wha -?”_

He stumbled; his eyes growing large as he realized that the gun the two men had been struggling over had gone off. He wanted to touch his chest and assess how bad it was – what had really struck him because it didn’t hurt as much as it _should_ – or did it? He had never been shot at such a short range. But his hands were still cuffed behind his back, and the world was starting to spin unpleasantly around him. With weak knees, he took a step towards the others; swaying as he tried to keep his balance. Both of the other men stared at him in shock; frozen in their struggle. His Templar father was the first to run toward him; the gun remaining in the older Assassin’s hand.

When Connor’s knees gave in beneath him, Haytham was there to catch him. The Templar’s arms closed around him, and, carefully, helped him back onto the sofa. Connor gasped; darkness eating at his vision. He stared up at his father; a foolish, small part of him glad to see the care and concern in the other’s gaze.

“It’s okay, Connor, I got you.”, Haytham said quietly; leaning over him. “I got you, okay? Don’t worry, you’ll be fine -”

Another quiet shot interrupted his words.

_“No -!”,_ Connor cried out; struggling against his restraints and the darkness creeping up on him. He saw his father’s eyes widening; their expression dulling. As Haytham’s eyes fluttered shut, he slumped over Connor. Incomprehension and confusion washed over Connor, but he concentrated on the feeling of his father’s steady breath against his neck; repeating to himself that Haytham would be fine. With that thought echoing through his head, his mind slipped away; his eyes only briefly focusing on his Assassin father with the gun in his hand.


	5. Cupid's Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! May 2021 be better... xo

Connor startled awake.

It took him a moment to blink away the heavy sleepiness that clung to his mind, and only slowly, the memories of what had happened trickled back into his consciousness. He found himself in his father’s bedroom; lying on the vast bed with a thick pillow beneath his head. While he had never set foot into the room before, he remembered it from walking by on the few times he had spent time in the other’s apartment during their truce. With his hands free again, the young man shakily felt his chest; he couldn’t see any blood and was still wearing the same hoodie. There was a dull ache where he remembered being shot, but when he pulled up his clothing, there was only a colourful bruise and a small injury; round like a puncture. Connor stared at it; wishing his mind wasn’t so foggy so he could understand what the hell had happened.

“Hey, you’re awake.”, a familiar voice sounded, and the young man turned his head to find Haytham by his side. The older man was sitting in a chair next to the bed; just putting away a laptop he had apparently been busy with. The young man squinted at the other; trying to figure out who it was. The Haytham was wearing one of his father’s fancy suits, but it wasn’t the suit from before and judging by the way he had spoken…

“What did you do to my father?”, Connor growled; his body tensing as he scrambled to sit up. What was this impostor’s true mission; how had he lied so convincingly? Connor’s mind went into a spiral of guilt and resentment; he should never have -

“He’s fine, don’t worry.”, the older Assassin said quietly; raising his hands in a gesture of appeasement. “It was only a tranq gun; just like you, he’ll have a bruise and that’s it.”

“Why did you shoot him? I - I thought…” Connor choked up, and shook his head; wanting to shake the feelings of terror and confusion that were still lingering in his heart. 

Haytham sighed; clearly trying to find the right words to explain himself. It looked odd to have the spitting image of the CEO in one of his impeccable suits, but his expression so warm and musing and entirely unlike the poker-faced Grand Master. After a moment of tense silence, the Assassin glanced up at Connor and said, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I - I wasn’t sure if you had thought it was a real gun, or… I tried to tell you, but you must have been too drugged at that point already.” Shifting closer, he propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “Neither of us wanted you to get hurt. When the gun went off, and I realized it was only a tranq gun - I… I was curious what your father would do. If he’d rather make sure you’re not hitting your head when you collapsed, or try to use the moment of surprise to get the upper hand in our fight.”

Connor stared at him with unveiled mistrust. “You haven’t answered my question.”, he brought out.

The other nodded; his bright eyes resting on Connor with understanding visible in them. “You’re right, I owe you an explanation. I’m sorry. You must think I had some ulterior motives all along, but everything I’ve told you is true - it was a split-second decision, not part of a greater plan, I promise, Connor.” For a brief moment, he fell silent again; clearly trying to sort through his thoughts and express them coherently. It was an odd experience - watching Haytham consider his words and quietly apologizing to him rather than quickly snapping back with cutting remarks.

“Look, both of us got into a fight with your father almost immediately, no matter how reasonable or well-mannered our attempts at explaining the situation were. You two clearly have… something standing between you; a huge barrier of mistrust. It’s understandable - given your affiliations, and… well, the history I have glimpsed between you; short and fraught as it seems to have been. But talking to you, and even seeing you two fight, and then… Well.” He shook his head as if to clear it; perhaps realizing he still hadn’t really answered Connor’s question. “I think the reason why he went for the tranq gun in the first place was to resolve the fight without actually hurting you. He only went for it after you seemingly took my side, not a moment before then. He had his hidden blade, and we were both cuffed at the point, so…” He looked up at Connor expectantly.

Slowly, Connor nodded that he understood the reasoning so far; gesturing for the other to keep going.

“So, neither talking nor fighting brought us anywhere. I figured your father was not in a mindset to resolve anything in those ways, and that’s why I took the shot. To knock him out for a moment and give us a chance to… figure this out in a different way. Particularly as I can see that both of you care for each other in ways that remind me of my… my son and me. I want to use what I know is true for my Connor and me, to help you connect.”

After considering the other’s words, Connor wordlessly pointed at the suit that the other Haytham had doubtlessly taken from the CEO’s wardrobe.

“Oh, the clothing - I apologize. I figured… since it’s Christmas Eve and I overheard three of your men being taken into Templar custody, I took the liberty to pose as your father and order your men to be released. I also had the security in front of this apartment disbanded for the night - just to make sure we can figure all of this out in peace.”

The younger Assassin shifted slightly; wanting to trust and believe the other, but until he had seen that his father was alright, he couldn’t. Maybe the CEO had been right, and all of this was a scheme to take him out and -

“I’ve come to think that maybe I’m here to help you both find a way with each other. That I will be able to go home afterwards.”, the older Assassin added gently. “I want to go home, if I am being honest. My husband is waiting for me, and we have a lovely Christmas dinner planned for tomorrow night. I wouldn’t miss it in the world - especially not when he might think something happened to me. Will you help me with a desperate plan?”

“Your… your husband?”, Connor asked. He thought about the ring, but that was… _impossible._

Haytham nodded. “Will you help me, Connor?”

“I need to see that my father’s alright before I do anything for you.”, the young man brought out, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and trying to ignore the dizziness he still felt. “I… I really thought…”, he added quietly; a shudder running through him. That moment of horror; confused about what was happening to himself, but even more so, terrified that his father –

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and slowly, Connor glanced up.

“I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to think I’d hurt either of you.” The older man sat down next to him, and gently pulled him into his arms.

Connor closed his eyes; leaning into the other’s embrace without fully returning it; not when he wasn’t convinced yet that his father was alright. It had been a disorienting mixture of feelings - the knowledge that he actually didn’t want to see Haytham die; that… that he _cared,_ more so than he could ever admit, and for longer now than he wanted to consider. He wanted to believe the older Assassin; desperately so, not just about Haytham being alright, but there being a way for them to resolve the unbearable situation between them. Achilles' voice echoed in the back of his head; telling him that Haytham had to die. And while Connor had been hesitant about it in the past, he now knew with painful certainty that he didn't want that fate to come true. But he felt helpless in preventing it; unsure if he could really trust his father again; unsure if the care he had glimpsed in the Templar's bright eyes was something true.

“Here, drink some water and follow me.” The other Haytham pulled away, and handed him a bottle. The young man was thirsty, but he eyed it for a moment until he was sure it was genuinely closed and wasn’t somehow spiked. It felt good to drink something, and he gave a soft sigh; immediately feeling better. He straightened, and then followed the older Assassin back into the living room.

The CEO sat near the couch, but on a chair – gagged with a piece of tape, his hands tied behind his back, and a rope fixating him to the chair. He was awake - and clearly furious.

“Father!”, Connor gasped; wanting to hurry towards him and free him of the restraints. In his mind, the image of the other catching him and telling him that it was alright, welled up powerfully; and his heart ached with the knowledge that Haytham had dashed forward with the tranq gun remaining in his opponent’s power. But a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and the young man jolted.

He turned to face the Assassin version of his father; anger and betrayal bubbling up in him. But when he met the other’s gaze, there was nothing cunning in it – instead, the other’s bright eyes were as warm and pleading as before.

“Not yet.”, the other Haytham said quietly. “As I said, I want to try something else without repeating what has happened before. He’ll be fine, I promise, and you can untie him in just a bit. Do you trust me, Connor?”

The young man glanced towards his father and then back to the other Haytham; wavering. “I – I want to, but…”, he mumbled with reluctance. He truly did – his heart aching; but he needed to know the other’s plan first.

“I understand.”, the other replied. “I am asking you to take a small leap of faith for me, Connor. But if at any point you think I am up to no good, or you feel uncomfortable with anything, you can say stop, untie your father and throw me out, alright? I will obey whatever you deem appropriate.”

Connor hesitated. “I don’t know… What is it you want me to do?”

“Allow me to kiss you.”

Connor stared at him; hotness and coldness waving through him distractingly. Whatever he had expected, this certainly wasn’t it. But most powerfully, he remembered that picture of his other self and this Haytham – laughing, as Haytham pressed a kiss to his temple; a ring glistening on his finger…

“Wh-what about your husband?”, Connor brought out evasively; wishing his cheeks wouldn’t feel so warm, and the palms of his hands less sweaty. He was vaguely aware that it was perhaps not the first question he should be asking - but his head was so utterly reeling with the proposition that he couldn’t really recall what would be a more reasonable course of questioning.

Haytham smiled at the mention of his husband. “He’ll understand. Under these precise circumstances, I know he will.”

Connor nodded.

“Are you nodding because you are giving me permission?”

Connor nodded again; his cheeks burning. Could… could he feel as happy as his other self? As comfortable with Haytham's attention? Shyly, he reached out; curling his fingers into the other’s shirt as if seeking support. The older Assassin moved closer; his bright eyes locked with the younger man’s. Connor’s heart was beating heavily; his mind spinning a little. A small part of him wondered how this would help with anything, but his curiosity, hopefulness and wayward heart were all willing to find out by taking that leap of faith.

Haytham’s hand brushed along his cheek, and the young man leaned into the touch; trying not to show how much he had yearned for such tender attention from his father… or, _well,_ this was not his father. His eyes flickered over to his _actual_ father, and he was struck by the intense expression that he was wearing; staring at them. Connor couldn’t tell if it was fury or more; but his heart beat in his throat heavily, and he was about to tell his Assassin father that he couldn’t –

But as he turned back towards the older man, Haytham’s lips captured his’ in a gentle kiss. Connor gave a soft sound; the grip on the other’s shirt tightening. Closing his eyes, and just listening to his own heartbeat drowning out any other sound and even the howling of the wind outside, Connor responded with delight. He had always been uncomfortable with physical closeness; unwilling to let people touch him. But for some reason, Haytham’s touch had never bothered him - he had reckoned it was because the other was his father, and that this small tingle that lingered on his skin afterwards was because they were enemies and the sense of danger caused those little shudders and shivers running down his spine… And yet, this man who was and wasn’t his father; pulling him closer and deepening their kiss, caused the same thrill to rush through him; the same tingling sensation to dance down his spine. Connor willingly parted his lips as the other’s tongue licked over them; delighted by the wetness and warmth mingling as their tongues met.

While the kiss seemed to render the rest of the universe meaningless, Connor was acutely aware of his father’s gaze on him. Not that he could truly see the Templar staring at them, but he felt the other’s eyes on him; causing him to shiver and squirm a little; pressing closer to the older Assassin. The other Haytham’s arms wrapped around him now, and Connor gasped softly; his hands itching to move and embrace the man in front of him properly. _“Nh…”_

Only when the older man broke away, Connor seemed to snap out of the blissful, mindless haze that had taken such a confusing hold on him. He felt entirely too warm; shuddering as he tried to pull himself together; remaining in the other’s arms and holding onto his shirt as if it could somehow help him stay composed. Taking a deep breath, the young man tried to sort through all these messy, confusing feelings washing over him; making him question what the hell he was doing, why he had liked it, and how this wasn’t creating just _more_ problems rather than solving anything between him and his father.

His eyes darted to the side; catching his father’s dark glance. Haytham looked pale and furious if anything; perhaps, Connor thought, repelled but seeing how eagerly his son had responded to this other man’s touch; to his kiss - practically melting into the older Assassin’s arms - 

Connor shuddered; averting his gaze with his heart aching. “H-how is this helping anything?”, the young man stuttered quietly; seeking the other Assassin’s gaze. “I think I’m just… making this worse. How c-can I ever look him in the eyes again with… now that he’s seen…”

Haytham’s Assassin self shushed him gently; one arm still wrapped around Connor, and the other hand coming up to brush a strand of dark hair from the young man’s face. “Seen what?”, Haytham asked just as quietly; holding Connor's gaze. “That you have wanted this?”

Biting his lips, Connor blinked; feeling how redness crept down his neck. He wanted to snap at the other and claim that he hadn’t - wanted it before - no, it was _just -_

“But that’s the point of it, love.”, the older man continued with a gentle kind of urgency; cupping Connor’s cheek. “Trust me, Connor. I know him, and I know you. Let’s show him…”

Connor wanted to ask _show him what_ , but the other moved closer again, and his words were silenced by another kiss; more demanding and knowing than the first. For a split-second, Connor considered pulling away - after all, this Haytham had promised to obey whatever the young man decided - but for some reason, he still leaned into the affectionate embrace; wishing with his whole heart that the other was right, and that this could - somehow - mend things. How that could be possible - he truly wasn’t sure. Haytham was more pissed off than ever - his double having overtaken him, and now, seemingly, seducing his son right in front of him.

But Connor’s thoughts were once more scattered by the intensity of the kiss; by the way Haytham tugged at his lips teasingly, and pressed his tongue against Connor’s; the wetness and heat of the other’s mouth; their hot, hasty breath mingling. “Nh…”, it escaped Connor again; his fingers twitching as he did his best to hold them still. He jolted when he felt one of Haytham’s hands slip beneath his hoodie; so obviously so that Connor didn’t doubt that his actual father had seen it - if he was still watching them. Breaking their kiss, Connor shuddered; trying to come up with a coherent thought that he could voice, but the feeling of the other’s fingers brushing over his bare skin was too distracting.

The young man buried his face in the crook of the other’s neck; panting and ripping a little at Haytham’s shirt as he felt embarrassment and eagerness wash through him equally. Part of him wondered why he was allowing all of this - was it because he liked this version of Haytham so much, or… was it, rather, connected to all these treacherous moments he had wished for his father’s attention in more than one way?

He could feel how the other pulled up his hoodie a little; revealing parts of Connor’s back, and showed the way Haytham’s fingers brushed firmly over the bronze skin. “W-wait…”, Connor brought out; trying to disentangle himself from the embrace gently. He caught the other Assassin’s gaze and was struck by the warm and wanting expression in it. His heart was beating up in his throat, and a realization took a hold of him.

“Y-you - the two of you are married?”, he asked, but what he truly meant to ask was, you’re married to your own version of me?

Haytham nodded as he seemed to have understood the underlying question; his flushed lips once more curling into that delighted smile that always seemed to accompany a thought of his own Connor.

Connor wanted to ask many things; how and why and since when - but when he opened his mouth, another question entirely left his lips. “Am I just… a substitute then?”

With an amused sound, the older Assassin gave a brief shake of his head. “You’re to me what I am to you.”

Slightly shaking his head in incomprehension, Connor stared at him.

“No matter what world I’d find myself in - I’d always love the version of you that I came across, no matter what. And isn’t the same true for you? I didn’t come here and make you fall in love with me. You love me because I am him.”

Haytham nudged him and Connor glanced at his father; both embarrassed and anxious. But for the first time, he realized that it wasn’t simply fury in the other’s gaze - it was jealousy. Perhaps he wasn't upset about the notion of his son's eagerness to fall into his arms, but rather jealous that those arms that currently embraced Connor weren't his'. Close to his ear, Connor heard his Assassin father whisper, “Let’s show him that he has nothing to be jealous over, shall we? Let’s show him how much you love him, no matter what; Templar or Assassin, irate or considerate. How much you have loved him for a while now. And how your heart is open for _both_ and all of him. I _know_ he feels the same about you, Connor. Both your wayward hearts just need a little help to find this path together.”


	6. Coming Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is staying safe & has had a somewhat better start to 2021. My semester has kicked off again, but I'll try to finish this story soon-ish :) Thanks for staying with it, and I hope you enjoy the (naughty) rest! Thanks so much for the kudos and comments!

Connor wasn’t sure what to process first - the knowledge that his Assassin father was married to him in another life, the other speaking of _love,_ the claim that his Templar father indeed _loved_ him, the way the older Assassin’s hands and lips felt on him, or the outlook of somehow bringing the CEO to embrace him and understand that he was not competing against himself, least of all for Connor’s affection. His head was spinning, but not unpleasantly so - his heart was aching, but not unpleasantly so. It was a strange feeling of elation; a feeling of recklessness and desire.

The older Assassin had shifted behind him now; arms wrapped around Connor’s broad frame with one hand holding up the other’s hoodie, and the other teasing the younger man’s taut skin. Haytham’s breath waved warmly over Connor’s neck, and sloppy, knowing little kisses trailed along the sensitive skin; nipping and licking in ways that made Connor forget any straight thought that was attempting to form in his head. Instead of thinking, then, he leaned back against his Assassin father; hands curled into the jacket of the other behind him; desperate to hold onto anything because how else could he prevent himself from reaching out to his other father?

With his steely, furious gaze unbroken, the Grand Master was watching them still. Connor wasn’t sure how much he had really heard from their earlier conversation, and if the other Haytham was truly right in what he had said about the Templar’s feelings. Connor held his father’s gaze; his dark eyes pleading and glazed over with delight at the attentions he was receiving - wishing he could better convey that -

 _“Ahn -”_ Connor jolted when the other pinched a nipple playfully; shivering at the unexpected sensation. He turned his head towards his father behind him; searching for the other’s gaze before their lips met in another kiss. He allowed himself to melt into the older man’s embrace; shuddering beneath Haytham’s knowing touches. He wondered absent-mindedly if the Assassin knew how to touch him so well because he knew the other Connor so intimately? Connor allowed more quiet little sounds of delight to leave his lips into their kiss; hoping all of this would help the Templar understand that this had never been about a choice between him or another. If anything, Haytham’s Assassin self had effortlessly brushed away all those thick layers of doubt and mistrust that had covered these radiant feelings of yearning and care; but it was true that those feelings had existed before this very day; before this other version of his father had turned up in Washington Heights.

Not that Connor was in a state of mind to think back to those distant missions he had gone on along with his father during their temporary truce. But if he could, perhaps, then he might remember the ways his wayward heart had sped up at inopportune times and after accidental touches, or the strange dreams that had risen up more lucidly then, and followed him for months.

Their kiss was sloppy but passionate; with Connor’s head tilted to the side and Haytham leaning forwards to catch the younger man’s lips. The older man’s hands were still knowingly wandering over Connor’s exposed chest and sides; somehow always seeking out the most thrilling little places to pinch and caress; to brush over with just the right pressure to have Connor shudder and gasp in the older man’s arms. Breathlessly, Connor broke the kiss; pressing backwards against the other and biting his lips when he could feel the older man’s erection against his ass. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel it, too - the knowing touches and the heated kisses; they all were too intoxicating for Connor to ignore his own blood rushing south. He wondered if his father could tell - could see his jeans bulging, and his body flushed with delight and yearning.

Before Connor could say anything - address this yearning or offer his help with the other's reaction - the older Assassin asked, “Connor, love, aren’t you getting a little warm in this sweater?”

Willingly, the younger man raised his arms in a gesture for the other to help him out of it, and Haytham did so slowly. Connor shuddered; not due to the cold but rather being overwhelmed with the notion of where all of this was going. While the wind was howling outside, and snowflakes whirled violently in front of the window, it was pleasantly warm inside of the Templar’s apartment; Abstergo probably had an emergency power supply, too, just in case the central power went out. It had been one of the topics from the press conference Haytham had given earlier, but Connor hadn’t caught much of what the CEO had actually said. He wasn’t sure how long ago that all had really been - how long had he been out from the tranq bullet? It was still evening, of that Connor was relatively sure.

“Do you… do you want me to… to _help_ you with that?”, Connor asked with as much determination as he could muster; glancing back at the other, and in a rush of boldness, arching his back and pressing his ass more firmly against the other’s crotch.

A soft little sound escaped the older Assassin’s lips; and only now Connor realized how rosy his cheeks had become with arousal running through him. His bright eyes searched for Connor’s gaze, and the young man was once more struck by how open and honest the other’s expression seemed. There was want and affection visible in Haytham’s eyes; and so much warmth and desire that it sent another hot shiver down Connor’s spine.

“I do, but -” Haytham’s eyes flickered toward the Templar in front of them. “How about you take care of him first?”

When Connor’s hazy gaze focused on his father before him, he realized that the CEO could use the help just as much. While his stare was still furious and upset - and spoke perhaps against untying him - Connor reckoned that perhaps actions would speak more clearly than those cursed words that always failed them both. Disentangling himself from the Assassin’s embrace, the young man stumbled forwards; slowly sinking down to his knees and between Haytham’s legs. His heart was throbbing heavily; wishing he could find a spark between them that would heal the past injuries; allow himself to trust and forgive his father - to lessen those sharp words Haytham was so keen at hurling at him.

Looking up at his father, Connor reached out with shaky fingers, but his hand hovered in the air before he had touched the other’s bulging dress pants. The thin fabric did little to hide the other’s impressive size, and the young man swallowed. “Do you… do you want me to?”, Connor asked in a coy whisper. Of course, Haytham was still gagged, and Connor was both worried to take the tape off of his mouth and potentially hear the other’s harsh words, as well as anxious not to do anything against the other’s expressed wish - after all, he wanted to find a way _toward_ the other, not destroy what little trust they may have had. “Just shake your head if you don’t - I’d… never wish to do this against your will, father.”

He almost expected his father to shake his head instantaneously; to avert his gaze in disgust at what Connor was suggesting. Perhaps he had misread the other, and Haytham hadn’t been jealous of his other self, but rather -

But before Connor’s thoughts and doubts could spiral any further, Haytham gave a nod. It was a brief gesture; with his intense bright stare not giving away what he thought about all of this; whether he was confused as to what was happening or how Connor was suddenly on his knees before him. But perhaps he had been unable not to imagine himself in his double’s position; hands wandering over Connor’s strong, youthful body, and finding just the right spots to tease… 

Connor had seen the nod; the purposeful, knowing gesture that gave him enough courage to reach out and slowly undo the other’s belt. His hands were shaking with nervousness as he undid the button and then the zipper clumsily, but he knew he wanted this. Before he could pull down the other’s pants and boxers enough to bare his cock, the young man felt how the older Assassin kneeled down behind him.

A part of Connor wanted to turn around and see what exactly the other was up to, but his fingers were brushing over his father’s bulging boxers, and all his attention was now directed at the Templar; his heart full of hopes to show Haytham how much he cared - more than he should, surely, but perhaps not more than Haytham _wanted…_ It didn’t make the things between them undone, and Haytham was still restrained, but Connor wanted this to be an unmistakable sign of his affection and the hope that things could be different between them in the future. Even if he wouldn’t want to admit it, but he hoped that there was a future where he was as comfortable with his father - as loving, as loved, and as relaxed - as his other self was with his Assassin father in that distant universe. It was a sweet, desperate notion, and yet, the other Haytham had promised that this might help to bridge some of those gaps between them and rebuild some of what had been lost…

With his heart galloping in his chest, Connor pulled down his father’s boxers and allowed the other’s straining cock to spring free. Licking his lips, the young man took in the sight; both delighted and intimidated at once. With appreciation, he trailed his fingers along the hot flesh; enjoying how it felt like beneath his fingertips; and how aroused Haytham was from watching the young man make out with Haytham’s other self. Leaning in closer, Connor brushed his lips along the other’s length; glancing up again to meet his father’s gaze and assure that there was no sign of discomfort or unwillingness; that he was doing what Haytham had agreed to.

The Grand Master’s expression was striking as always, but for entirely different reasons than usual. Connor believed to see desire in those bright eyes; as well as a hint of confusion or irritation still. With a shudder, Connor moved closer; his gaze briefly dropping down to run over the other’s exposed erection again - enjoying how it looked like against his fingers, and how his saliva glistened on it as he slowly trailed his tongue along it. It all felt surreal but in a pleasant, dream-like way; as if he had indeed dreamed of this before, and now it was finally coming true, even if in other ways than he could have ever imagined. 

Meeting his father’s dark glance, Connor pressed sloppy kisses against the other’s cock; enjoying the slightest shivers he could provoke along with the deep breaths he could hear his father take in through his nose whenever the younger Assassin seemed to tease a particularly pleasant spot. The Templar held his son’s gaze, and Connor shuddered; all too aware how illicitly intense this was. Opening his mouth, he closed his lips around the head of Haytham’s cock and took him in slowly as far as he could without gagging. Bobbing his head, Connor enjoyed the feeling of the other filling him out like this; a thought in his head appearing about how nice this might feel _elsewhere_ \- how delightfully huge and thick -

A surprised shudder ran through him when the other Haytham’s hands brushed along his frame - Connor had almost forgotten that the other was right behind him. Breath waved warmly over his bare back, and the young man anticipated the first gentle kisses pressed to his shoulders and along his spine; nibbling and sucking - doubtlessly leaving little marks and reddish hickeys as he went along.

Connor couldn’t help the low little noises that reverberated through his throat and that his father had to feel against his sensitive cock. Being touched and kissed by Haytham _behind_ him while he was pleasuring his father _before_ him was a wonderfully surreal experience, and Connor allowed himself to drown in the blissful experience. His hesitations and doubts were slowly melting away as he could feel the knowing, tender touches his Assassin father bestowed upon him, and the pleasured, wanton shivers and breaths he could provoke from his father.

“Hey, love -”, Haytham whispered into his ear. He was pressing close from behind, and Connor could feel his cock press against his ass; causing a hot little shiver to spike through him - fully well knowing where all this was heading, and somehow all too eager to embrace it. “Mind if I prepare you…?”

Evidently, his Assassin father expected him to know where this was heading, too, and Connor shuddered. Slowly, he released his father’s cock with a wet pop. He turned around enough to meet the older Assassin’s gaze; unaware how wanton he looked now with flushed cheeks, wet lips and glazed over, dark eyes. The other Haytham had not yet taken off his suit but he had gotten rid of the jacket and loosened his tie; reminding Connor of the many times he had seen his father like this during their truce, and how much, perhaps, he had wanted to come closer even back then. Now, it was a sight that let the young man’s mouth go dry with the knowledge where all this was heading. The thin dress pants did nothing to hide the older Assassin’s erection, and Connor bit his lips in the knowledge that he had to be just as impressive as his father - after all, they were the same person, in some spacetime-bending way. He couldn’t help but wonder how and when his alternative self and this Haytham had slept with each other first - how they had found their way together, without the help of a universe-travelling other Haytham.

“O-okay.”, Connor managed out in a determined stutter; his dark eyes wanton and filled with delight and wonder. His gaze fell upon a bottle of lube that he hadn’t noticed before; vaguely wondering where it had come from. It was partially empty, and Connor realized that the Assassin must have retrieved it from his father’s bedroom. With a blush accompanying his thoughts, he couldn’t help but wonder what Haytham had been up to - if it was just for himself, or - 

But this wasn’t the time to think about it, not when everything was spiralling so intoxicatingly out of control. The older Assassin shifted closer; pressing against Connor from behind and reaching around him to undo his jeans. Connor glanced at his father in front of him, who was having a good view of what was happening. The young man bit his lips; both vaguely embarrassed to have himself be presented like this, but at the same time glad that his Assassin father was pushing things along more purposefully than Connor could have handled under the current circumstances. It crossed his mind that this view wasn’t new to the other Haytham - that he would know every inch of his body -

Connor’s thoughts were scattered as his cock was bared and instantaneously enveloped by the older Assassin’s skilled fingers. He leaned back against the other; holding his father’s gaze as some helpless gasps escaped his flushed lips. He enjoyed the warm embrace from the man behind him, and the lustful gaze that was bestowed upon him by his father, who was unable to participate just yet. Connor trusted his Assassin father to know when it was beyond a point where the Templar might try to go against his other self, and thus safe to cut him loose.

The older Assassin’s hand left his cock, and Connor allowed the other to pull down his jeans and his boxers further. The young man leaned forwards again; presenting his ass to the other while his lips returned to press kisses to his father’s spit-slicked cock. He could feel the older Assassin’s fingers pressing against his entrance; spreading lube and slowly easing inside of him, one finger at a time.

It had been a while since Connor had indulged in anything like this - the past few weeks and months had been stressful and lonely with more and more responsibility piled onto him within the Creed, as well as the mounting pressure to go against his father more openly, now that the truce was broken. But perhaps owed to the delicious distraction of Haytham’s cock before him, Connor managed to relax enough for the older Assassin to prepare him without any discomfort; all too soon stretching him with three fingers - thrusting inside of him in ways that made Connor’s body jerk with stimulation. Once more he had to remind himself that there was a reason the other knew how to pleasure him oh so well - it seemed as if his other self’s body reacted much the same.

Connor had taken in his father’s cock again; bobbing his head and daring to let the other’s thick member slide down his throat just a little more - careful not to overdo it lest the gag reflex kicked in, but eager to try and see how much he could take. A small part of him was surprised by how much it turned him on to pleasure Haytham with his mouth; to feel the weight and girth of the other’s cock, and the way it rubbed against the roof of his mouth and the back of his throat. The young Assassin was moaning lowly around Haytham’s cock; both turned on by the sensation of the blowjob, and the feeling of his Assassin father fucking him with his fingers.

“Now, love, I think you’re ready... “, Haytham muttered, and Connor’s heart missed a beat in hot anticipation. Slowly, he pulled off of his father’s cock again to turn around and catch the other’s glance; a soft sound of loss escaping him as the other Haytham pulled away his fingers, too. “I reckon I know who you want first…”, the other muttered with warmth visible in his bright eyes. “Though I hope you’ll consider my embrace afterwards.” It was incredible to Connor that there was not one speck of jealousy or irritation visible in the older Assassin’s eyes as he clearly expected Connor to want and have his actual father fuck him first.

But the young man shook his head. “I… I want you both.”


	7. Coalescence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Once more we have a case of "oh no! this chapter got way too long!" So I've split it up... Thanks for reading, and for the kudos and comments, it means a lot!!

For a moment, the only sounds that echoed through the CEO’s living room were the noises of the storm outside; whistling and driving gusts of hail and snow against the windows. With his gaze resting on Connor, Haytham the Assassin arched an eyebrow. “You want us… both?”, he asked after a moment of consideration.

Connor nodded.

“At… the same time? In the same way?”

With his cheeks turning crimson, Connor nodded again.

His Assassin father scooted closer; brushing his hands along the young man’s frame in an appreciative and gentle gesture. His eyes briefly darted up to his other self. “Do you hear that? He wants us both. At the same time.” He shook his head a little; eyes returning to Connor in front of him. “Dear, have you ever done this before?”

With some hesitation, Connor shook his head.

“I see. How about we start with one of us, and if you are very comfortable with that, the other may join? Okay?”

“O-okay.”, Connor agreed reluctantly. His body was growing all hot and cold at the same time with the notion of his father _and_ his other father embracing him; of being loved and held so completely and entirely. But lacking experience, he trusted the older Assassin to know what was best. 

The older Assassin reached around himself and produced a condom; also handing Connor the bottle of lube the young man had noticed earlier. “Go ahead, then.”

Taking both things, Connor swallowed heavily; dizzied with the prospect of being taken by his father. He turned towards the CEO before him; glancing up and seeking to catch the other’s glance. “M-May I?”, he asked with his heart still galloping in his chest.

The Templar arched an eyebrow, and Connor could tell that he would have a snarky remark if only the tape was removed from his mouth. He seemed to wait for Connor to continue, and with shaky hands, the young man proceeded to roll on the condom and slowly slick his father’s cock; appreciating the weight and girth in his hands with the anticipation of feeling it elsewhere. 

“Come, make yourself comfortable on the couch, love.”, the older Assassin remarked once Connor was done readying his father’s cock. “It seems only fair to let your father escape this chair, doesn’t it?”

Nodding hazily, the young man got to his feet, shedding his pants and boxers fully before he shifted onto the couch; briefly considering how this would work best, and eventually shifting onto his hands and knees while the older Assassin freed the Templar from the chair - however, leaving the restraints keeping his hands behind his back in place.

Connor jerked when the Templar shifted onto the couch behind him; glancing backwards and biting his lips as he caught his father’s dark glance. The Templar still looked pissed, but there was little doubt that he wanted this - shifting closer on his own accord, and his rock hard erection pressing against Connor’s ass. The young man barely managed not to give a sound at that sensation alone - the other’s hot, stiff cock against Connor’s sensitive skin; a lewd reminder of where this was going. 

Reaching behind himself, Connor helped guide the other’s cock; all too aware that Haytham couldn’t do it himself. A part of him wanted to undo the other’s hands behind his back, but he trusted his Assassin father to know when it was best. Once he had adjusted his position, he pressed backwards against his father; thus signalling him that the other could move closer, too. With a groan, Connor allowed his body to accept the other’s member inside of him, bowing his head as he clutched the cushions of the couch beneath him. He was doing his best to relax and breathe evenly, but he had never taken anyone of the size, and the feeling was new and overwhelming to him - not necessarily in unpleasant ways, but overwhelming nonetheless.

“Now, dear, distract yourself, will you?”, a gentle voice sounded, and Connor glanced up. His Assassin father was shifting onto the couch before him; undoing his belt, unzipping his dress pants and freeing his straining erection that Connor had felt so prominently against his ass earlier. Of course the young man had known that this Haytham’s cock was just as impressive and enticing as the Templar’s, but his heart leapt in his chest regardless. Parting his lips almost on instinct alone, he allowed the other to shift closer.

Unable to keep a low moan from escaping his throat as Haytham pushed inside of him further from behind, Connor hazily leaned into his Assassin father’s touch as the older man cupped his cheek and guided his cock to Connor’s mouth. Focusing on letting his lips and tongue reconnoitre the form and shape of Haytham’s cock, Connor eased around his father pushing inside of him from behind; gasping and whining with the pleasant as well as intense feeling of being so utterly filled out. Opening his mouth once more to let the older Assassin push into him from the front, too, Connor allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of physical sensation and emotional yearning. There was no part of him left to deny that this was making him feel loved in ways he never thought he could; letting a budding hope in his heart flourish. The older Assassin was touching him gently; providing further, soothing proof of care and affection, while the CEO behind him was slowly starting to move - his thrusts rough from the beginning.

Soon, the Templar was pounding into him from behind; his pace fast and rough; doubtlessly spurred on by the fury and frustration of him being restrained still; of having had to watch his other self make out with Connor in front him.

Connor was moaning around the older Assassin’s cock; barely able to keep his focus on either sensation; his blowjob erratic and messy as he was fucked so roughly from behind. Every now and then, Haytham arched against him so powerfully that Connor couldn’t mediate the movement and was shoved forward; taking in his other father’s cock more than he had planned to - choking and gagging but not pulling away as he sucked and swallowed around the thick cock sliding down his throat. His lips and chin were covered in saliva, and perhaps the wetness dripping from his nose was saliva or pre-come he had choked on earlier. But it didn’t matter - it was a frenzied, starved union between all three of them, and Connor enjoyed all of it. Both the way his Templar father slammed into him with abandon, as well as every touch his Assassin father bestowed upon him, even if it was just a gentle urging to bob his head more, or to swallow him down further. Connor glanced up at the other; his gaze hazy and tearful as he tried not to cough; his body jerking with the CEO taking him so roughly. He found the Assassin’s gaze resting on him with warmth and lust - sending shivers of delight and arousal through Connor. 

While the young man was doing his best to move in a way to meet his father’s thrusts behind him, and bob his head to pleasure his father before him, he was vaguely aware that he was doing a poor job at either. His body was being moved by the other two more so than on his own; the rhythm dictated by them, and for some reason or another, Connor loved the feeling. He blissfully let the other two manhandle him; his body flushed and stimulated endlessly. It was hard to tell when he was getting perilously close to coming undone - his body twitching and jerking already; his cock dripping, even though no one was touching him there.

Only when he could feel himself slowly inundated in the stimulation, he gave some pleasured cries with every thrust; muffled around his father’s cock. Haytham seemed to realize how close Connor was, and pulled away. Pressing his cock against Connor’s face once it had left his mouth, he cupped the young man’s cheek; his thumb drawing gentle circles on the flushed, sweaty skin. Haytham’s cock was still hard and hot against Connor’s cheek, and the young man tried to press kisses to it, but couldn’t focus enough to coordinate his attention sufficiently.

“Good boy.”, the older Assassin soothed. “You always come from just behind?”

With his flushed lips still parted and wanton sounds pouring over them with every movement, Connor managed to shake his head just slightly; dark, hazy eyes focused on the man towering before him as he tried to keep himself from coming for just an intoxicating moment longer. 

“Well, get used to it when he gives it to you.”, the other remarked in a promising little whisper.

Unable to form a coherent reply, Connor moaned as the CEO pushed inside of him again and pressed him forward; the idea of this happening again sending a spike of delight down his spine, and when Haytham slammed into him, Connor was unable to hold back; clasping the cushions beneath him as he cried out and came.

Panting, he collapsed; still doing his best to hold up his hips shakily; his body twitching and shivering as the orgasm washed over him, and the CEO still stimulating him further with erratic, harsh thrusts. Perhaps owed to the way Connor had clenched up around him, or the way he looked now - sweaty and twitching, sprawled out on the couch with his hips shaking - the Templar did not last much longer. Fucking him through the orgasm and keeping up his frenzied, rough pace, Haytham came with a muffled growl audible despite the tape over his mouth. He arched against Connor one last time; as if to come seated as far as he could manage inside of Connor. Breathing heavily through his nose, Haytham sagged behind him; slowly pulling out and provoking a noise of loss from the young man’s lips. The older Assassin reached out, and Connor turned to see what he was doing; only slowly surfacing from the blur of stimulation and pleasure. The young man watched hazily as the other Assassin removed the piece of tape from the Templar’s mouth.

 _“Fucking finally.”,_ Haytham snapped breathlessly; his bright eyes furious still. “I should kill you for this.”

“I have a much better idea.”, the other Haytham remarked with amusement, leaning over Connor and placing a hand on his other self’s neck to pull him into a kiss.

With his heart throbbing, and his stomach turning a little in delight, Connor watched as they kissed - a somewhat forceful, dominance-seeking kiss, but appreciative nonetheless. It seemed like a reconciliation - sexual only to a degree, and yet, though he had come just moments go, Connor could feel the delicious, aroused twisting of his insides at the view he was having. Once more emboldened, he whispered with his mouth going dry, “Please… I want _both_ of you still…” His voice was rough and breathy from his throat being penetrated by his father’s thick cock just moments ago, but his words were spoken audibly and with enough determination that made Connor sure they had heard him.

Both of them turned to look at Connor, breaking their kiss. Their bright gazes were intense as they scrutinized the young man.

“Didn’t I give it thoroughly enough to you yet?”, the CEO growled.

With a breathless chuckle, the older Assassin shook his head and glanced at his other self. “Now, now, admit it - isn’t it quite intoxicating to think that he wants to get as much of us as possible?”

Narrowing his eyes, the Templar squinted at his other self. “Untie me first.”

“Very well. Connor, love, you should do the honours.”

Nodding with eagerness, the young man got up from the couch; swaying a little as he felt pleasantly sore, with his knees surprisingly weak beneath him. Haytham turned his back toward him, and Connor realized that he hadn’t even seen the restraints before.

A surprised mixture between gasp and laughter left him as he saw the way Haytham’s hands were tied behind his back.

“What? What’s so funny?”, Haytham snapped with impatience, glancing around.

His wrists and lower arms were elaborately tied in a pretty pattern - with something that looked charmingly like the iridescent gift ribbons one could buy around Christmas time. On top of that, the ends were knotted into a luscious bow; all adorned with a gift tag that said, _For you! Happy Holidays!_

Connor glanced at his Assassin father, his dark eyes warm with amusement, delight and wonder. _“Thank you.”,_ he mouthed without saying it out loud. Then he reached out to open his present.


	8. Crescendo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, I hope you are all holding up alright. I've been crazy busy with uni - sorry for the late update. I hope to finish the story in the upcoming week/s. ♥️ Thanks for reading and leaving feedback, I really appreciate every single kudos and comment. ♥️

The snowstorm outside was forgotten - neither Connor nor his fathers were paying any attention to the white flurry outside the window, or even hearing the wind howling through Central Park. Instead, the soft sounds leaving Connor’s flushed lips wafted through the air much to the delight of the older men; the wet sounds of him pressing back against his Assassin father’s cock. The last pieces of clothing had been taken off; and each of them could appreciate the tangle of naked bodies and bronze skin flushed against Haytham’s pale, muscular frame. Dark hair brushed over it as Connor adjusted himself - leaning back against the older Assassin as he moved down onto the other’s slick cock again. The young man’s back was pressed against his Assassin father behind him; his legs on either side of the other’s lap as he kneeled on the couch on which the older man sat. 

Connor’s heart was galloping pleasantly in his chest, and his mind was still a bit hazy from the orgasm he had enjoyed a few moments earlier - now pleasantly distracted by the notion of what was about to happen. Guided by his father’s hands, he rode the Assassin gently; enjoying the feeling of being filled out so wonderfully again. He had no willpower left to keep the delighted, rough little noises of pleasure from pouring over his flushed lips. His gaze was resting on his father who stood before them; clearly displaying the affection and want the young man felt pulsing through him. The Templar was watching how Connor impaled himself on the older Assassin’s cock, and was stroking himself to full hardness again.

There was not a lot Connor knew on how to approach this undertaking, but it seemed like his father or fathers knew what they were doing, and the young man was eager and curious to find out what it felt like. For right now, he enjoyed the way his actual father watched him taking in his other self’s cock, and how his Assassin father’s hands ran over his body distractingly. One hand was stabilizing him, and the other wandered over Connor’s chest first, and then, slowly, down to tease his cock before he carefully added a finger in an effort to prepare him further.

Connor shuddered, already feeling pleasantly full with his father’s cock and another finger, and wondering how he would take them both. Another finger and more lube followed, and Connor was gasping softly as he rocked back against his Assassin father’s fingers and cock; his mouth dry as he watched the Templar put on a condom and slick himself up lavishly before he came closer. Haytham behind him pulled away his fingers; nudging Connor to readjust his position and allow the other Haytham to enter him as well. The young man’s heart lurched, and his stomach twisted in anticipation; his mind pleasantly hazy as he leaned back further and allowed his Assassin father to grip his thighs and present him lewdly to the Templar; the Assassin still fully seated inside of him. 

“P-please…”, Connor brought out breathlessly, as if either of them had asked for further confirmation that this was what he wanted. He was shivering with anticipation and want; a hint of nervousness, too. It was all surreal in a wonderful way; finding himself here, in the familiar living room, with his father’s familiar figure approaching him - but at the same time, everything had changed.

“Relax…”, the older Assassin whispered into an ear, and Connor could feel how the other pressed kisses to his shoulder and neck; nibbling on the sensitive skin and providing further distraction.

The couch dipped when the CEO shifted onto it and in between the other’s legs; facing Connor as he pressed closer. Almost shyly, Connor reached out to pull the other into his arms; his legs wrapping around Haytham’s waist in an effort to relieve the Assassin from holding them up the whole time. For a moment, they just gazed at each other, and it was Haytham who eventually closed the gap between them with a kiss. It was their first, technically, and Connor closed his eyes; his body trembling with both the feeling of the other Haytham already filling him out wonderfully, and the knowledge of being held by both, and soon, further loved by them. He couldn’t help the groan that left him into their sloppy kiss when he could feel Haytham press against him and his other self’s cock; guiding himself to join. It was slick and messy, but Connor could guess that it was for the best. He moaned and shuddered as he tried to keep up the kiss; his fingers digging into Haytham’s shoulders as he could feel the older Assassin bite down a little more forcefully onto his neck.

He could barely tell whose hands were doing what - one of them stroking his cock, another hand teasing a nipple, and yet another hand cupping his ass both to hold him in place and to seemingly enjoy the fullness of the curve as both Haythams moved against him. He was pleasantly trapped between the two strong men; held in place and caressed; appreciated and ravaged in all too intoxicating ways.

Breaking the kiss with a soft little cry escaping him, Connor felt his father enter him, too. Bowing his head, shivering and moaning, he tried to decide whether it hurt or was pleasant - whether he wanted more or less - but either way, he was utterly incapable of forming a coherent sentence or word, instead whimpering and clasping onto Haytham before him. His own heart was beating hard in his chest, and he tried to concentrate instead on the soothing heartbeat he could feel against his back. His hips were shaking and his fingers dug into Haytham’s shoulders as he tried to hold onto something; tried to handle the overwhelming feeling.

“You alright there, love?” A familiar voice sounded close to his ear; warm and breathy, sending a shiver down Connor’s spine.

 _“Hngh-”_ Connor brought out; leaning his head back against his father’s shoulder; panting and sticking out his tongue a little as if it helped with the feeling of fullness.

“Do you want to stop?”, the same voice asked, and Connor jolted.

 _“Nnnoo-”,_ he managed out pitifully; trembling as his heels dug into his father’s back. “Nnoo-”, he repeated with a whimper. It was surprisingly hard to voice his sentiments in articulated, purposeful words. “D-don’t stop…”

A dark chuckle sounded, and Connor allowed himself to melt a little into the embrace that accompanied that wonderful sound. He could feel kisses against his skin - against his neck and shoulder, but also against his throat and teasing his nipples. Trying to breathe and relax, Connor focused on those sensations; on the feeling of Haytham’s heartbeat against his back, and Haytham’s breath waving over his skin -

Then his father moved closer, and Connor’s body jolted as he could feel the other slide into him further. Both of them had barely moved yet; simply allowing Connor to adjust to the feeling of them inside of him.

The young man whimpered; his fingers digging into his father’s shoulders still; trying to pull himself together. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he concentrated on the gentle, exploring touches bestowed upon him. The feeling of fullness and the stretch were almost too much - but at the same time, being embraced by them both, and inside of him both - it made Connor eager for more; feeling loved and wanted.

“Good boy…”, one of them praised, and before Connor could figure out who it had been, his father before him started to slowly roll his hips. Rather than pulling out and pushing back in, it felt more like he was teasing Connor’s insides, and the young man groaned; his head lolling back with his mind blissfully blank at the intensity of it all. Hands were wandering over his skin; pinching him and teasing him - finding all those wonderful spots he knew he liked to be touched, and places he had never realized were so incredibly sensitive.

 _“Hn-_ ah! P-please-!”, Connor moaned; pressing his head back against Haytham behind him; _“Nh-_ H-Haytham, please - father…”

“Please what?”, a growly voice breathed out against his throat; lips and teeth trailing over the exposed arch and leaving hickeys and gentle bites along the way.

“More…”, the young man brought out; blinking and doing his best to focus on his father's silhouette before him. If only he could, he would beg for other things - harder, faster - but neither his mind nor his tongue seemed particularly cooperative in forming those delicate little words. Instead, there was a plethora of wanton, shameless noises escaping him endlessly, and there was nothing he could do against it. His body jerked when one of them pressed against that sweet spot inside of him, and Connor was unable to keep another rough sound from leaving his flushed lips. Another dark sound of amusement sounded close to his ear, and the young Assassin wanted to bristle at it, but instead, a pitiful, eager little noise left him.

“It’s alright, Connor.”, Haytham said soothingly. “You are doing so well, dear…”

Even if Connor had wanted to reply - even if he had wanted to have his brain tell him who of the two had spoken - his mind was already too jumbled up to really put together full sentences. _“Hng…”_ , he brought out; shivering as he brushed his shaky hands over his father’s broad frame; enjoying the firm, muscular shoulders beneath his fingers. How he had wished to feel these curves - to touch and be touched -

A soft cry left him as his father before him started moving more sincerely; pressing Connor back against the other. The young Assassin hazily focused on Haytham before him - his hair messy, and a few greying strands having fallen into his face. His lips and cheeks were flushed, and his bright gaze was intense. With a groan, Connor soaked in the view; trying to press it into his memory firmly. Shakily, he reached out to pull Haytham into a kiss again. The Templar complied, though it was a breathless, sloppy amalgamation of smaller kisses and licks rather than a continuous, focused gesture - both of them clearly too distracted by the sensation of their union.

Doubtlessly, Haytham behind him was getting more impatient, too, and soon joined into the slow rhythm of his Templar self. Connor was hiccuping into the kisses; his stomach feeling hot and as if poked at. He was whining as they moved rougher - only now realizing that he was dripping with pre-come already; unable to recall when he had gotten to such a state. Wet warmth smeared across his stomach; adding to the gentle sheen of sweat.

Both of his fathers were still touching and teasing him, and it was impossible to keep up with their knowing attentions - playing with his nipples, his neck and his thighs - and, only rarely, wandering down further to caress his cock and flick a finger along the sensitive, wet head of his arousal.

When Haytham started to thrust into him more powerfully, Connor broke the kiss - unable to focus on it; unable to focus on anything. He leaned his head back against his other father; hiccuping and moaning; his fingers digging into Haytham’s shoulders as he could not manage to stay composed. The hands roaming over his body were more demanding now; pinching and kneading - cupping his pecs and squeezing his ass. Only vaguely could Connor wonder about how much he enjoyed it - the greed and the desire in these lustful, groping touches; the want he could feel in their messy embrace. And the way he was entirely trapped in their arms; trapped in the maddening rhythm of their lovemaking. Three bodies connected; hearts beating in synch, and breath mingling.

Fingers brushed along Connor’s jaw, and the young man let himself be guided willingly. His head was turned to the side, and Haytham behind him leaned forward for a sloppy kiss - awkward in their position, but somehow only adding to the frenzied lust they shared. Connor did his best to respond to the demanding lips and tongue, but his reactions were delayed and distracted by the way his fathers’ cocks pressed against his sweet spot with almost every move; letting his body jolt and his mind go blank - rendering him entirely unable to reciprocate the wanton kiss the older Assassin bestowed upon him. He felt full and overwhelmed still; but the rhythm of their movement and the way they pressed inside of him left him a mewling mess; pleasured and brainless. Lips and teeth trailed over his arched neck with gentle force; rough hands squeezing his pecs, and pinching his nipples. More gentle hands were running ever so lightly over his thighs - having him squirm and shiver as both gentle and rough sensations melted together into a blissful haze.

Connor hadn’t even realized how close he had been when he came - entirely unprepared and overwhelmed as his body cramped, and wetness spilled over his chest. A soft, surprised cry accompanied the intoxicating wave washing over him, and his fingers scratched along his father’s shoulders as he held onto him. Twitching and groaning, he went limp in his fathers’ embrace; letting himself be kept in place by their strong hands. He whined and trembled; squirming as the sensations didn't stop and carried him through the orgasm further. Connor nuzzled into Haytham’s neck behind him; half-turned and mewling as the two of them continued to fuck him - causing jolts and gentle twitches to spike through his body as he was stimulated still. He was only loosely holding onto his father leaning over him; his fingers shaky and his legs held up by the other men now instead of him keeping them around the CEO’s waist.

A hand brushed soothingly through his hair, and Connor whined; blinking away tears of pleasure and overstimulation. He was pliant in their grip now; having given up on trying to discern the rough and soft touches and kisses he received - allowing the flow of attention and pleasure to wave over him and letting him shiver and cry out softly. Pressing shaky, uncoordinated kisses to the older Assassin’s throat as best as he could with his head turned towards Haytham behind him, he vaguely realized how erratic and rough their thrusts had grown; not quite in synch anymore as both his father sought their own last drop of pleasure to let themselves be pushed over the edge.

Their grip on the young Assassin was firmer now; holding him in place and enjoying the last, intense moments of lust before they pushed into him one last time and came undone at the same time. A low growl and a lustful sigh were breathed out against Connor’s sweaty, flushed skin, and their rhythm ebbed. Connor was twitching and whining softly still; his body not having realized yet that their blissful flurry had ended - the feeling of fullness and being taken by them both still all too present.

Only when the two of them pulled out of him and proceeded to get rid of the condoms, Connor let himself slide next to the older Assassin onto the couch; his hips trembling and his ass feeling sore. Both of his fathers leaned over him, and Connor smiled up to them as they pressed kisses to the corners of his mouth.

“We love you, Connor.”, the older Assassin whispered; brushing his hand through the young man’s messy hair.

The CEO sat down on his son’s other side, and placed an arm around him as if to emphasize that Connor belonged to _him_ rather than the older Assassin. “Speak for yourself.”, he growled.

“I do.”, the reply came instantaneously from his other self. “I speak for both of my selves.”

Before the Templar could reply, Connor leaned into him and muttered with some exhaustion, “Love you, too, raké:ni.”


	9. Connor ∞ Haytham & Connor ∞ Haytham

Connor blinked. The first light of the new day was making its way through the blinds of Haytham’s bedroom, and the young man needed a moment to recall how he had ended up here. He listened for any sounds of the storm still going on, but there was just relative silence - a few sirens in the distance, some quiet noises from the city. Glancing to either side of him, he was relieved to find two versions of his father resting by his side - glad that the older Assassin had not merely vanished while they had slept. He allowed himself to enjoy the sight for a moment - even now, as they seemed to sleep, Connor did not find it hard to tell them apart. For one, his true father’s body had many more scars running over the pale skin, and then, of course, the Assassin version was wearing his wedding ring. But even aside from that and the minimal difference in their hair cut, Connor believed to see that the Templar’s expression was stern even as he rested, while his other self appeared more relaxed. Perhaps it made sense, Connor thought to himself. With the limited knowledge he had about his father’s past, and what the older Assassin had told him yesterday, it seemed as if the Templar had suffered through a much harder youth…

Maybe, one day, Connor thought, he could ask about it. He wasn’t sure if Haytham would really tell him anything, but he had never asked in the first place.

For right now, however, Connor was more than content to marvel at the existence of the present moment. Waking up in his father’s vast bed - with him, after such a night… It was Christmas Day, and never could he have imagined to find himself here under such circumstances.

Connor’s body was still pleasantly sore and aching - a reminder of what they had done. After his gentle admission, he remembered that his father had kissed him. He remembered that they had brought him here, to the bedroom - having to help him because his knees were too weak after their blissful union earlier. Perhaps they all had sincerely thought about sleeping, but it hadn’t come to that for - for how long had it gone on, really? Hours? Connor wasn’t entirely sure. It was all a hazy blur in his memory - unsure what happened in which order, or which moment was separate from the other. In his mind there were only intoxicating scenes of his fathers caressing him; fucking him; pleasuring him. He remembered bright eyes watching him as the other slammed into him; hands brushing through his hair as he tried to give a messy blowjob while someone else played with his ass. There was neither a memory of a starting point, nor a memory of an ending point. It seemed they all had given in to the exhaustion eventually, and slept for a few hours.

Of course, they were all in need of a shower, and Connor pulled down the blanket a little to look at his body. There was the colourful bruise from where the tranq dart had hit him - but more alluringly, he could see the little hickeys that his fathers had left on his bronze skin. For some reason or another, he wished they would stay for a while - to remind him that this had really happened.

Before he could truly think about this more - what had happened, and what it truly meant for the future - he became aware that at least one of them was awake. Glancing to his side, he found the older Assassin’s warm gaze resting on him. 

As Haytham caught his glance, he reached out and brushed his fingers along the young man’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”, he asked quietly.

Connor snuggled into him more; enjoying the warmth of the other’s embrace. Somehow, he was at a loss for words to describe how he was feeling, both physically and emotionally. It seemed all to depend on what would happen next. So instead of answering the other’s question, he muttered, “Can this… does this have a future? Him and me?”

The older Assassin put an arm around him and gave a soft hum. “Do you want it to?”

Connor nodded.

“Then, yes, dear, I think it does.”

“How long have you been together… Me and you?”

Even though the young man couldn’t see the other’s face, he knew Haytham was smiling. He always did, thinking and speaking of his husband. “We married a little over a year ago; went on the honeymoon for the whole of December - travelling around Europe. But together? It’s hard to pinpoint a single moment, honestly. You kissed me for the first time when you were just eighteen.” He snorted. “I did not take it very seriously - you were drunk and I had picked you up from a birthday party at one of your friends’ places.” He shook his head a little. “We always spent a lot of time together. Working, and living together. When you were twenty, we kissed again. Something had happened and there was just this moment of relief and- and affection to see one another; to know we were both safe. But the kisses were just… manifestations of what we felt in that moment, and had felt for a while. It simply evolved from there on.”

Connor shifted away enough to catch the other’s glance; trying to wrap his head around a world where this had happened; where he had been so close to his father, and where things between them had just… spiralled into this. “How could you… _marry?”_ , he asked with some embarrassment. After all -

A crooked smile appeared on Haytham’s lips. “That wasn’t so hard. We just needed a bit of paperwork that gave certain information in our favour.”

Averting his gaze, Connor knew that he should probably not feel happy about the older Assassin being here - after all, he knew Haytham had hoped to be able to go home and be with his husband by helping Connor and his Templar father to find together. “I’m sorry you… you’re stuck here.”

“Oh, hush.”, Haytham said with amusement; gently reaching out to guide Connor’s face to look back at him. “I’ll find a way to get back; soon, I hope, because I don’t want him to worry. I don’t want to miss our dinner. But there is nothing to be sorry for - you should know that last night was incredible. Don’t you agree?”

A blush crept onto Connor’s cheeks and he held his father’s bright gaze. Instead of verbally responding, he nodded and then scooted closer to place a questioning kiss to the other’s lips. The truly incredible thing was that, perhaps, last night hadn’t been a single occurrence, but was rather the beginning of something… Connor had been hurting, badly, over the events of the past months - his father seemingly betraying him, and him not knowing what to do but to cut all ties with the Grand Master. But now, Connor couldn’t help but hope that there was a future - a more intimate one than he had dared to imagine. 

He laced his fingers with his father’s; happy to indulge in the gentle kiss.

“Give me a fucking break.”, a growly voice sounded behind Connor, and almost instantaneously, he could feel a hand yanking him back. He found himself pressed back down onto the bed, with the Templar leaning over him. Connor stared up at him, briefly wondering what Haytham would do. But then the CEO cupped his cheeks and bent down for a kiss. It felt possessive if anything, but for some reason or another, Connor’s heart was still missing a beat in delight.

Giving a soft sound of surprise, Connor responded; closing his eyes and enjoying the more demanding kiss. He was still holding the older Assassin’s hand, and he could feel how the other painted soothing circles onto the skin with his thumb. Connor’s other hand was coming up to run through his father’s hair and rest on his neck; half-wishing to pull him closer; feel Haytham’s body against his own once more - but their night had been intense, and instead, he wanted to help the older Assassin find his way home. While part of him - selfishly - wished Haytham could stay, he knew that his other self was missing his husband terribly in this moment. What they had was something Connor couldn’t help but feel jealous about, but it led to a desperate wish to do his best to make sure they could stay happy.

When his father broke the kiss, Connor looked up at him; breathless and wanting. His hand was still resting on Haytham’s neck, and slowly, he let it brush down - over the other’s shoulder and along his muscular arm until Connor could lace his fingers with Haytham’s. Either hand was entwined with one of the others’, and he wished he could hold onto them forever.

The CEO still leaned over his son, but his bright gaze shifted to look at his other self. After a moment of scrutinizing his Assassin self, Haytham said, “I might know a way.”

Connor followed the Templar’s gaze and caught the other Assassin’s surprise. “How?”

The Templar gave a sigh; shifting into a sitting position without letting go of Connor’s hand. Running a hand over his face, he briefly glanced at Connor before he returned to look at his other self and replied, “I have a minor Piece of Eden.”

Sitting up himself, Connor considered letting go of his father’s hand, but then he didn’t. “Since when?”, he asked quietly; ignoring the aching of his body as he shifted. A part of him felt betrayed all over - after all, Haytham had never mentioned this before.

“After our falling out.”, the Templar said, clearly sensing Connor’s train of thought. “A little over a month now. The strange thing is that I don’t know what it is supposed to do - I have had my specialists look into it, but nothing so far. But the energy signature matches those expected by a minor Piece, so there is little doubt it has some sort of power. Maybe this is its purpose.”

“How did you get it? What does it look like?”, the older Assassin asked.

“We seized it at the airport as part of a larger shipment of illegal antiquities coming in from Alaska. It's just a small pendant.”

The other Assassin’s expression shifted; clearly putting together the pieces. He straightened; his gaze intensifying. “This must be it. It must be - it’s the same thing I came in contact with in my world, as far as I remember. Can you bring me to it, or have it brought here?”

With some reluctance, the Templar nodded. “I will bring you there.”

“I’ll come with you.”, Connor said.

Both of the others glanced at him, and the young man was both irritated and amazed to see the exact same expression on their faces - both amused and a bit pitiful. “My dear, you better stay put. Give your body some rest today.”

“Shouldn’t we… at least shower before you go? Have some breakfast?”, Connor responded, knowing he was stalling for time.

The other Assassin’s expression softened, and he shifted closer; pulling Connor into an embrace. “You do all that when your father returns.”, he said softly and pressed a kiss to Connor’s temple. “And I’ll do the same at home.”

Swallowing heavily, Connor wanted to say that he didn’t want the other to leave. But of course, that was ridiculous. He clenched his jaw and did his best not to let it show that he wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet. There was so much he wanted to ask - about the other’s life; his relationship with Connor… advice for going forward; for navigating his own path with his father.

Haytham pulled away and smiled at the young man; brushing his hands over Connor’s broad frame and taking his hand again. “You’re not really saying goodbye, Connor, you know that, right?” He looked at his Templar self and smiled. “I’ll still be here with you.”

**_Epilogue - 2 months later_ **

Connor sat down on an empty bench in Central Park. It was a chilly evening, but he did not plan on sitting down for long - after all, his father was a punctual person. The sun had already disappeared behind the skyscrapers a while ago, and twilight was slowly fading. The young Assassin enjoyed the peaceful moment; content to watch the people passing by. Some squirrels scurried away as someone with a dog walked by and disappeared in the direction of 5th Avenue. He looked at his phone briefly - twenty to six; Haytham would be here in five minutes. The young man adjusted his woolen hat and then pulled out the instant pictures he found himself looking at frequently. They had fallen down in the car when the CEO had surprised him and his Assassin father, and Connor’s recruits had found them a few days later. The young man flipped through the three pictures; scooting closer into the light of a nearby streetlamp to look at them more closely. The first two, he had seen back then already - himself with Rufus the dog, then him and Haytham at the Christmas market in Austria. The third, however, he had only ever seen after his Assassin father had already left their world again - to be reunited with his own Connor, or so they hoped.

But he didn’t need Haytham to tell him at what occasion the third picture had been taken. While he wouldn’t have known back then, sitting in the car and going through these pictures for the first time, it was entirely clear to him now. It showed the two of them - Haytham and him, and this time, it wasn’t a selfie but rather taken by someone else. They were wearing complementing suits - Haytham’s was, of what Connor could see, an elegant black three-piece with an embroidered vest and tie. He himself was wearing a cream-coloured two-piece suit with matching decoration on the bow tie. And from what he could spot, there were some pearls embroidered on his shirt’s collar and speaking of his heritage. Of course, there were many reasons why they could be wearing suits - many events they could have attended together in that other world. But Connor knew with absolute certainty that this was at their wedding. The expression on their faces; leaning into each other and gazing at the camera like it was the happiest day in their life. Connor had had many daydreams about that day; where it would have taken place, who would have been there, and many more things that he enjoyed imagining. It was strange to possess this picture of himself and Haytham, and yet, knowing he would never have a memory of that day.

“Aren’t you concerned they will fade when you stare at them like this?”, a voice sounded and Connor glanced up.

Punctual as ever, Haytham stood before him. He was wearing a dark winter coat, highlighting his broad shoulders. There was also the dark blue scarf Connor had gotten him as a belated birthday present a month ago; overall, he looked impeccable as always. He had probably come straight from the office as so often. It was their usual routine on a Friday - they would get dinner together. Often, Connor stayed over at Haytham’s place afterwards. Last week, he had only left on Sunday - and reluctantly so. Of course, there was much to organize in regards to the truce, but that wasn’t the reason he was staying over. No, what had happened over Christmas had changed their relationship forever. Connor had stayed for a few days after his Assassin father had left, and he and Haytham had done their best to sort through the mess their relationship had become in the preceding months. It hadn’t been without hiccups, but in the end, he had fallen asleep next to his father; woken up next to him, and sought the other’s embrace when in doubt.

Connor put away the pictures and got up; placing a kiss to the corner of Haytham’s mouth as a small greeting. Before he could reply to his father’s quip, Haytham said, “I have something for you.”

The Templar handed him a small package, wrapped in a simple brown parcel paper. It was surprisingly heavy, and the young man eyed it with curiosity. Connor briefly glanced up at the older man, then he carefully started to peel off the tape and unwrap the present without ripping the paper. Pulling off the wrapping, a package of batteries appeared, lying on top of a box. The young man turned to look at the front of the box and realized that it was a brand new instant camera. A mixture of gasp and laugh escaped him; realizing how often Haytham must have caught him looking at those instant pictures from a life and a world he would never know.

“So you can make your own.”, the Templar remarked as Connor examined the camera.  


“Thank you…”, the young man muttered; meeting his father’s gaze and moving close enough to press a brief kiss to the other's lips.  


“Well. I reckon our table will be ready - we should probably head over.”, Haytham said; clearing his throat and perhaps not used to Connor eyeing him with such gratitude and affection.

“Wait.” Connor briefly sat down on the bench again to assemble the camera; quickly figuring out where to insert the film and the batteries. Getting back up to his feet, leaned into his father's broad frame and held out the camera to hopefully catch their faces in a first picture. The flash went off, and the camera whirred; producing the small, familiar little picture.  


Connor took it and put the camera into the tote bag he had been carrying. For a moment, he stared at the white of the picture, knowing that soon, a memory of their own would take shape. Holding onto the picture with one hand, he took Haytham’s hand with the other. “How was your day?”, he asked. Slowly, they made their way to the restaurant Haytham had selected for this week as his father answered. Walking hand in hand and chatting, Connor enjoyed the fresh breeze, knowing spring would arrive soon - a new memory taking shape on the picture he held; and a new life taking shape as they walked.


End file.
